Lullaby
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: "It was just for a few laughs," he says while staring at the blood splattered on his clothing.  "We figured it was just another stupid game." .:Human!AU/Demons/Occult/Non-Con/Dub-Con:.
1. Chapter 1

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter One**  
>xxx<strong>

The most common form of donating to a thrift store it seems is to simply toss whatever items the giver wishes to rid of in anything that is able to carry all of it and leave it on the doorstep of said shop, as though whomever is "donating" is doing it more for their benefit than the thought of others who have no other option to buy whatever articles they need at these secondhand stores.

At least that's how Matthew views it; his twin brother Alfred on the other hand, sees it completely different.

"It's kinda like that chute for the library books," he explains with a bright smile and shining blue eyes while leaning up against the front counter. "Everyone's still doing their part, but no one needs to talk to each other."

Matthew only gives him a deadpan stare from behind the register before he goes on to question Alfred's people skills.

"At least people notice me," he shoots back.

"People notice me too," Matthew argues.

"Yeah, when they need a doormat."

"You're such a dick."

"You're a jerk."

"Lazy."

"Neat freak."

"Selfish."

"Um…"

"Self-centered."

"Wait, I can't-"

"You're also vain, idiotic, irrational, arrogant, impatient, nosy-"

"Dammit, Matthew, lemme think of something to call you!"

"Well there, now I can add 'slow' to the list."

The bell hanging above the entrance goes off at that moment, signaling a new arrival to the store and ultimately ends their verbal scuffle with the interruption. Striding down the main aisle is a slightly older brunette with waist length hair, someone the twins are more than just familiar with and even call out a small greeting of "Hey, Eliza." that goes by disregarded as she marches past the chrome racks filled with vintage clothing. She comes to a stop in front of the register, arms crossed and an overall no-nonsense aura surrounding her.

"There's a box outside," she tells them. "Filled with stuff I'm pretty sure are meant for the store. Now did you two notice that yet or where you just ignoring it?"

The twins both look away sheepishly in their own manner to hesitate answering the questions presented to them. Eliza simply waits patiently for one of them to break and give her the reply she wants, which being the more well-mannered of the two just so happens to be Matthew.

"Well," he begins, "we did see it there, but we weren't ignoring it."

"Yeah," Alfred agrees all for the sake of coming to his brother's aid. "We were just talking about it right now."

While Eliza does give them a nod to show that while she appreciates receiving a response to her question, she still has every right to ask, "So, why is it still outside?"

"Because we weren't actually talking about bringing it in," Alfred answers straight-forwardly and rather honestly. "It was more about whether or not it _deserved_ to be brought it."

It's Eliza's turn to direct a deadpan stare at Alfred before she orders, "Bring in the box."

Alfred readily makes to do so and quickly at that, leaving his lounging position unattended and ready for her to swoop in and take over as he exits through the front door.

"Want to enlighten me on that box discussion?" she asks the remaining twin.

"It wasn't really anything," Matthew confesses. "I was just pointing out that a lot of people just throw what they don't want in front or in back of a thrift store and just be done with it."

"Hey, one man's garbage is another's treasure, right?" she poses with a slight shrug. "Besides, don't you think it's more like that chute for the library books?"

"Alfred said the same thing."

"Really?"

"Word for word," he nods.

"Oh… Well, don't tell him that I agree with him."

As they continue on with their conversation, Alfred takes the opportunity to rifle through the items inside personally before handing it over to the other two for their chance to sift through. At first he finds nothing particularly interesting, the top layer being nothing but women's clothing. Something does catch his attention though as he digs further, a somewhat soft article that he feels before even glimpsing at and pulls it out carefully, revealing a rather well-worn scarf faded to a light pink.

Alfred gives it a good look over, instantly smitten with the item and stretches out the material, seeing how long it extends before shrugging and loosely wraps it around his neck. The best part of his job, as he's come to tell thus far, is having first dibs on any donations and only needing to pay a fraction of what it would have been sold under.

With a new accessory in his possession, Alfred heaves up the cardboard box and goes about completing his chore, bringing it back into the store while rattling the contents inside and clattering together what is most likely objects made of glass and therefore fragile. Alfred apparently doesn't take any of this into consideration as he lugs the box onto the counter none too delicately.

"Careful," Eliza scolds. "Obviously there's something breakable in there."

"Yeah, it kinda felt like it when I was carrying it."

"And you still weren't careful?" Matthew asks.

"I'm not paid to be careful," Alfred quickly rebuts to which Eliza mutters something along the lines of how he shouldn't be paid at all. Alfred ignores the comment and proceeds to show off the scarf to his brother. "So, what do you think? Is it a keeper?"

Matthew shakes his head slowly while giving him a small smile. "You'll be the envy of every hipster to walk through that door."

"Or Feliks at least," Eliza says while removing the clothing and placing it carefully on the counter. "Huh, looks like some kind of witch decided to clean out her closet."

"Don't you mean cauldron?" Alfred jokes with a smile.

"Why would a witch keep clothes in a cauldron?"

"You're ruining the joke, Mattie."

"It's okay, it wasn't funny."

"Seriously though, you guys," Eliza cuts in. "Check this out."

The two lean over to view what had been packed away underneath the mass amount of clothing, both wearing identical expressions of interest. After removing the top layer, all to remain inside is a small pile of leather bound books and glass encased candles, and what appears a thin board made from wood, littered with elegantly scripted letters and numbers that are magnified by the glass placed above them.

"Is that a Ouija board?" Matthew asks.

"Looks like it," Alfred says. "Like one of those really old ones."

"Let's see, let's see," Eliza mutters and reaches in to unpack the books and candles.

As she takes her time in unloading the candles one by one to prevent any damage to them, Matthew takes up one of the small books and cracks it open somewhere in the middle. He turns a few more pages before stating, "There's nothing written in here."

"There's some stuff in here," Alfred tells him after searching through one of the others. "But it's like in some kind of alien code."

"Lemme see." Matthew tilts his head towards his brother's direction and frowns at the writing displayed for his viewing. "That's not alien code, that's like what Eliza's grandma writes to her in."

"Here, give me," she orders after the last candle has been set out. It only takes her one glance at the pages Alfred hands over before she shakes her head. "No, that's not Hungarian. It's more like, um.. Cyrillic. Yeah, that's what it looks like."

"So is that like Klingon?" Alfred asks.

"It's what they use in Russia and places over there," Matthew corrects. "Wow, you're stupid."

"Nothing new there," Eliza cuts in. "But moving onto something a little new to us, we just got our first Ouija board in the store."

From the bottom of the container, Eliza pulls out the thin wooden board with an inscription at the top that reads 'OUJIA'. She hands it over to Matthew for inspection, all while asking how he could identify it so quickly before when still buried under the small notebooks and candles.

"It kinda looked familiar. Our brother has one like it," he explains. "But he never let us touch it."

"He never let you touch it," Alfred corrects.

"Yeah, because of what you did."

"More childhood tales of yore?" asks Eliza.

"Something like that," Matthew answers. "But I never got the whole story."

Any delving into the subject further is cut off by Alfred with a swish of his hand as he says, "That doesn't matter. How much do you think this'll go for?"

Eliza only shrugs and glances back in the box, noticing the board's planchette still left inside. She reaches in and brings it out while saying, "It's old, really old, and it actually does look like something that would belong to a witch."

"No kidding," Matthew agrees. "But it can't be that old, it's actually in pretty perfect condition."

"Custom made?" Alfred suggests.

"Most likely."

"Seems like a waste to get rid of it if it was custom made," Eliza comments. "Especially if you're not gonna be paid for it."

"People throw away a lot of things we question," Matthew shrugs.

"True." She places the planchette on the counter and takes up the board from the spot Matthew had laid it down during their conversation. "It is pretty cool looking, I'll give whoever owned it before that. We should play with it. Call up some spirits and see what all the hubbub is about."

"I'm up for that," agrees Matthew.

The two look on at Alfred expectantly who only shakes his head firmly. "Not me. Count me out."

"But, why?" Eliza asks. "You're not scared of a few ghosts are you?"

"No, I'm not scared. It's just that we shouldn't be messing around with things we're supposed to be selling."

"It's not like we're going to set it on fire or throw it off the parking structure while shooting our BB guns at it," Matthew tells him.

"Though that was really fun, and we should do that again sometime," Eliza inputs.

"Noted, but anyway Alfred, come on. We can take it up to your apartment since it's just upstairs so it's not in any real danger."

"Oh yeah, we can just go up and play around with it right after work," says Eliza. "Finally, you living upstairs proves useful."

"Aren't you just a responsible supervisor," Alfred replies with a slight sarcastic edge. "I already said I don't want to play with it, and I definitely don't want it in my apartment."

This statement may be the very reason why exactly only a few hours later when closing time hits, both Eliza and Matthew follow him up the stairs around back that lead to the row of loft apartments above the stores lining the street, much to the displeasure of Alfred himself. Nothing he could say to the two (even with using bribery and threats) deters them in pushing themselves right into his apartment with a box now void of everything save the used books, Ouija board, and glass encased candles.

"I still don't really wanna do this," Alfred comments as Eliza unpacks everything and Matthew clears out a space for them to sit in his brother's overly crowded loft. He silently curses peer pressure while playing with the ends of the scarf he's yet to pay for but took with him anyway.

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" Eliza asks him. A sudden devious smirk crosses her lips as she turns towards him. "Or were you lying before and you actually are scared?"

"No," he quickly denies. "But don't you guys ever watch those scary movies that deal with people messing around with Ouija boards and all of a sudden they become possessed by ghosts and stuff? If it's one thing I've learned from watching all those, it's how to survive and you start doing that by not messing with this."

"Those are just movies," says Matthew at the end of his speech. "None of it is real."

"The Exorcist was based on a true story," mutters Alfred.

"In my opinion, the book was better," Eliza replies "Lookit, even if they _were _real,those kinds of situations have to be one in a million, and besides all those people took it seriously which we are not going to because it's just a game. Now, do you have a lighter or a matchbox or something?"

"Matchbox in the drawer by the stove."

"See!" she grins. "You do wanna play!"

While Eliza makes her way to invade the small kitchen area, Matthew places the board on the hardwood flooring, right in the center of the cleared out area. He looks up at Alfred from his position, offering him a small smile and says, "We'll be fine, it's not like any of it is real. You should know, you've told Arthur plenty of times."

"Yeah, I guess," Alfred sighs as he sits down across from him and fixes the scarf looser around his neck. "Just in case though, don't expect me to come running to save you when some ghost throws you up against the wall and tries to suck out your soul."

"And here I am willing to do just that for you," Matthew jests and places the planchette on the board.

After the three divide the task of not only figuring out just how to open the candles for use, they lit them up one by one and once that's done, Eliza flips the lights switch off, leaving them in near darkness and surrounded by a soft yellow glow.

"Is there any official way to start this?" she asks.

"I don't think so," Matthew says.

"If it's for fun, then there shouldn't be," Alfred tells them. "Just put two fingers on the dial thing, but not too hard."

"You're the professional," Matthew laughs.

"Shut up."

Eliza and Matthew watch as Alfred places both of his pointer fingers on the planchette and follow suit, placing their own on any available space provided for them.

"Who wants to go first?" Matthew asks.

Alfred, who looks as though he's seriously second guessing his contribution to their game, stays silent, leaving Eliza to speak up and ask, "Is there anyone with us?"

Nothing happens, the planchette on the board remains in the same position as they patiently wait while listening to the seconds ticking by on Alfred's wall clock hanging somewhere in the background. A few more tick by, and it's at the moment where Alfred himself is ready to call out to them and ask if they're ready to give up on contacting any spirits, the small dial moves, slowly making it's way to the upper left corner where the word 'Yes' is written and settles above it.

As Alfred grimaces a bit at the response, the other two smile and laugh amongst themselves as they've finally made contact with 'the other side'.

Their session proceeds as though it normally would in any other circle, the two asking trivial yes or no questions that don't necessarily need the aid of any supernatural being to divulge the answer to them, though their contact actively answers these inquires quickly and impressively. It's only when more of a conversation is settled amongst them and answers or replies require the use of the letters on the board that the dial begins to move in a more languid motion until it suddenly stops moving all together.

"Why don't you ask something?" Matthew directs at his brother. "Ghost is probably sick of us and wants to hear from you."

"You can get pretty boring," he smiles at his own words as Matthew rolls his eyes. "I think I'll pass though."

"That's not fair to the spirit."

"Probably doesn't want to talk to me anyway. Probably wants to leave already or something."

"Spirit, do you want Alfred to talk to you?" Eliza asks and is immediately given a 'Yes' reply. "See? Now is not the time for you to be growing a shy trait."

"Fine, fine," Alfred mutters and again curses peer pressure though it's entirely his own fault how he's subjected to it. "Um… Hi."

"That's not a question," Matthew sweatdrops.

Question or not, their contact does not seem to mind in the slightest as it races the dial back and forth quicker than ever across the board to write back 'H-E-L-L-O'.

"Well what do you know?" Eliza laughs. "I think the spirit likes you."

"Don't say that," Alfred says. "It's not true."

His reply has Eliza tilt her head slightly and ask, "Oh, really? Let's find out then, yeah? Spirit, do you like Alfred?"

The immediate 'Yes' response has Alfred shrink back some from the board, though his less the subtle movement went by seemingly unnoticed by the other two as they instantly crooned over their contact's confession.

"Looks like you got a ghost-admirer," Eliza says.

"Looks like," Matthew agrees. "Spirit, what exactly do you think of my brother?"

"You know, we should probably ask for the spirit's name," Eliza points out to him as the dial moves. "Seems a bit rude to keep calling it Spirit."

"And 'it'."

Alfred is lost to their side commentary as he watches the planchette move carefully around the board, spelling out the word 'L-O-V-E-L-Y' and he feels uncomfortable enough to stand up abruptly, alerting the other two and asking him if anything is wrong.

"I've had enough," he states and leaves the circle of candles. "I'm done."

"Where are you going?" Matthew calls out to him.

"Bathroom," comes the reply right before the lights are turned back on and they watch him head into the only other room of the small living quarter.

The second the bathroom door closes behind him, both Matthew and Eliza burst out into laughter, even going as far to acting dramatic and falling to their sides or doubling over.

"Did you see his face at the last question?" Eliza asks through a series of chuckles. "I didn't think he'd hold out for so long, I'm glad you got something out of him. Great work, Mattie."

"You deserve most of the credit," he tells her. "I couldn't even feel you moving this thing."

Eliza's laughter comes to a slow halt as she stares at the planchette Matthew holds up. Her smile falters and her brows furrow together as her mind registers the compliment bestowed on her.

"I thought you were moving it."

Inside the bathroom Alfred runs the cold water and splashes it against his face. He keeps his face down in the sink as he reaches to turn the tap off, watching as small droplets of water drip off from the point of his nose and cling to the blonde strands of his hair matted to the sides of his face. Once he's deemed himself composed enough to face his brother and friend, he wipes his face dry with one hand and reaches for his glasses with the other.

He shakes his head a bit, reminiscent to that of a wet dog drying itself off before putting on his glasses once more. A quick through his hair and he finds his eyes darting to the mirror above the bathroom sink for glance at his appearance and instantly spies another person standing directly above him, seeing nothing too clearly other than a childish grin twisted on a pair of pallid lips as he quickly spins around to see no one.

His eye dart in every which way in the white tiled room and finds no one else occupying the small space other than him, and he leans back against the sink as he tells himself that he's simply letting his fears get the best of him. Though when he closes his eyes while he takes in a deep breath, a sudden knock at the door causes him to jump and fall back further against the basin, knocking the back of his head up against the mirror.

"Alfred?" Eliza's voice calls through the wood. "Are you okay?"

Startled by the other, it takes Alfred a few seconds before he's able to shout back, "Y-yeah! Yeah, I'm just gonna be.. gonna be another second."

"Okay, um.. Mattie thought of watching some movies and ordering something in but we wanted to know if that was okay with you, if you wanted to do that."

Before realizing that she isn't able to see his action, Alfred begins to nod frantically at the suggestion, anything to keep them nearby for just a little while longer while he calms his nerves down. "That sounds awesome!"

"Okay then!"

He hears her footsteps pad away from the door and he's left with the sound of the buzzing light fixture hanging above him as he breathes deeply to slow his heart beat. With one last deep breath and another quick look over of the room, Alfred reaches out for the door know and wrenches it open before hitting the light switch and throws himself back into the living room with the full intent of drowning his fears in take out and horribly immature comedies.

**xxx**

Disclaimer: Quietly he laughs and shaking his head, creeps closer now, closer to the foot of the bed.

-Do I really fail that bad at titles? Yes, yes I do. OTL

-Anyway, I had started writing this for the Dark Fantasy week of the Fantasia event that was happening in the R/A community back in June, but I was going in and out of the hospital a lot until they finally just decided to keep my ass locked up so they could poke and prod and run a whole bunch of tests to find out if I was finally dying or if they just needed to put me on a prescription I will never take, so I didn't really have the chance to finish and participate since I just got out last Tuesday.

-But yeah, I didn't get to post it there, so I'll put it here and continue here and it's rated M for stuff to come… Heeeeh, come. XD (Oh jeez, and we're a whole year older now too…)

-Alright then, it's near 4am where I am and I have to wake up… in about three hours. :D Til next time then, lovelies. -heart-


	2. Chapter 2

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter Two**  
>xxx<strong>

Alfred has a habit of sleeping with his window open.

Being in a very small living quarter, with the front door and a reasonably sized window above the squashy and frameless bed of his that overlooks the street being the only source of ventilation; it's natural for the apartment to grow stuffy during the warmer seasons unless one or the other is ajar.

Common sense dictates that this be the window, which naturally allows a breeze to fly through every now and then to flitter against his sheets and raise them up slightly higher. Because this is a normal occurrence, Alfred pays no mind to the way the bottom of his sheets lifts up from his figure even though it's going the opposite way the wind would be blowing. He's still lost to sleep as a cold sensation trails up his bare legs and reaches the hem of his undergarments, his subconscious chalking it up to the temperature of the night.

It's only when a slight dip presses itself into the mattress, causing the springs to groan slightly under the newly added weight, that his mind begins to stir. His eyes dart back and forth behind his eyelids as he continues to grow more alert to the feeling of something inching its way up the bed, over his body, higher and higher until there's the feeling of something beginning to press up against his still form.

His eyes flash open, and he jolts up into a sitting position. Despite his blurry vision he looks around his apartment for any moving shadows before grabbing his glasses off the bedside table and slips them on to his face. His eye sight goes in and out of focus before he's able to see anything clearly, but only then he's simply peering into darkness, seeing no stirring nor hearing any noise.

He's completely alone.

Alfred falls back into his sheets with a loud _thump_, a relieved sigh breathing out from his lips as he runs his hands over his face. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a small smile, but just as he's ready to let out a light-hearted laugh at his own silly behavior, it happens.

He's unable to breath, a heavy pressure rests against his chest, immobilizing him in place. He's unable to even squirm against an invisible something lay right on top of him, and the only action he has available to him is the ability to widen his eyes as labored breath reaches his ears. Alfred knows it's not his own, he knows he can't breathe himself, knows it because of the tight restrictions felt in his chest and burning sensations that lack of oxygen leaves in one's lungs.

Then the clincher. Alfred feels whatever it is inch further up along his body, feels something the size and weight of a human head come into contact with the crook of his neck and brush along his collarbone in an affectionate manner. With this, he feels his heart stop.

As quickly as it came, the pressure is gone and he sucks in a lungful of air before releasing it all in one go as he rolls on to his side and curls into himself. His breathing grows shallow and erratic, bordering on erratic as fear starts to sink into him. He cups shaking hands over his mouth loosely, squeezes his eyes shut, and begins to take in deep breaths, slowly one right after the other.

When he's calm enough, Alfred uncurls himself enough to bring the blankets covering his bed high over his head and huddles once more. Between thoughts filled with ghost-like monsters frightening him and dastardly plots against the two responsible for starting this, he tries to rest, attempts to find some semblance of sleep so that he may wake up in the morning and realize that it was all a dream, just as he had so many times as a child.

It does not work out as well as he'd hoped.

"Someone didn't get their beauty sleep."

Alfred jolts awake at the words, his propped up arm slipping and landing hard against the counter as he blinks awake. He causally brushes himself off under Feliks' amused gaze and replies, "I had a bit of a rough night, didn't get much sleep."

Feliks rolls his eyes once as we walks around the counter to take his place behind the cash register. "It's probably that grodey mattress you have. Like, aren't you supposed to replace them every eight years or something?"

"I've only had mine for a few months."

"Yeah, but you totally got it second hand."

Alfred muses the point over briefly while taking off his glasses and rubbing at his tired eyes. "I don't think Feli would have given me a bad mattress."

"I don't know about that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the kid to bits, but he's not like totally there all the time, ya know?"

"It's been fine up 'till now though."

"That just means it's finally hit its mark. Anyway, enough of that, I'm more interested in where that little number came from," Feliks tells him while pointing at the pink scarf draped around Alfred's neck.

With a sleepy grin, Alfred wraps his hands around the ends of the scarf and tugs at them. "Jealous?"

"Quit gloating, you whore," Feliks glares. "Where'd you get it?"

"You missed a shipment yesterday," Alfred tells him. "Found this buried under a bunch of clothes before handing them over and knew you would want it, so I had to take it."

"I so believe that, too. Lucky for me, I also believe in Karma, so you're totally gonna pay for that."

"I'm shaking," Alfred scoffs and takes a quick glance at the clock hanging above. "Hey, aren't you supposed to start counting the register for that deposit thing already?"

"Oh my God, you're so annoying," Feliks groans. "Stealing clothes I want _and_ reminding me that I like, actually have to work?"

"Hey, I'm not the one that jumped for more responsibility."

"No," Feliks agrees and opens up the register. "You're the one that jumped at still being paid at minimum wage."

Alfred gapes at him, taken by surprise at the come back and unable to think of anything remotely witty enough to reply with, when the front door to the shop is pushed open and the sound of tinkling bells ring out through the front. They both turn towards the door and are greeted with the sight of Matthew sauntering through the shop with his hands shoved into the pockets of his favorite red hoodie.

"Matthew!" Feliks calls out in greeting and receives a quick wave in reply.

"Mattie!" Alfred cries and points to Feliks. "This guy is a dick."

"Whatever he said, you probably deserved it," says Matthew.

"Even my own flesh and blood! What is this world coming to?"

"It's an abomination," Matthew laughs as he reaches the counter. "I know."

"Now you're being a dick."

"You seriously want to play this game? You lost yesterday."

"Asshole," Alfred bites out with a rather large yawn tagging along. "Wanna do me a solid and pull a twin-switch?"

"What?"

"Come on, Mattie, please? I'm so hungry."

Matthew glances up at the clock just as Alfred had moments before. "You get off in half-an-hour, you can't wait?"

"It'll only take five minutes," Alfred tells him. "Just want to get a Big Mac. Come on, it's right up the street, I'll run it."

"How much you wanna bet he comes back with three bags?" Feliks puts in.

"Stay out of it."

Matthew looks around helplessly and shakes his head. "I can't believe.. Yes, I can. Go, and make it quick."

Alfred lets out a loud cheer accompanied by a less than enthusiastic fist pump. "Best brother, ever. So much cooler than Arthur, hands down."

"Flattery gets you nowhere," says Matthew as he shoos him away. "Now get outta here before I change my mind."

Alfred slips out from behind the counter, clapping Matthew on the shoulder as he passes by at a brisk pace, apparently foregoing the run for a speed walk. Matthew takes his place next to Feliks, resigning himself to simply starting his shift early and watches Alfred leave while thinking how he is never going to show up early ever again.

"Does he seem tired to you?" Matthew asks Feliks once Alfred is gone from the store. "More than usual, I mean."

"Hm?" Feliks sounds while going over the register. "Oh yeah, he was like, so falling asleep before you got here. I know he gets lazy around this time, but even that's going too far."

Matthew continues to look straight at the path his brother had taken when leaving, paying no mind to Feliks muttering numbers under his breath while writing a few down every few seconds, and looking rather worried.

"I should have stayed with him," he admits to himself.

"What now?" Feliks asks, taking a pause in his actions.

"I should have stayed with Alfred last night," Matthew repeats a little more clearly. "He was pretty freaked out. I wouldn't be surprised if that's why he's so tired."

"Why, did you guys have another oh-so-famous scary moviethon?"

"Worse."

"Oh, God!" Feliks exclaims with a smile. "Don't tell me you finally got him to do that 'Bloody Mary' thing, because I will so totally kill you if I missed-"

"No, it wasn't that either," Matthew interrupts. "Yesterday someone dropped a box off that had a Ouija board in it, and Eliza thought it would be fun to mess around with it before putting it up for sale. I thought it'd be good for a few laughs, 'specially with Alfred's ghost-phobia, so we brought it up to his place and gave it a go. Freaked him out, freaked us all out actually."

"Whoa, Eliza was freaked?"

"She was," Matthew stresses. "See, before we went up there we thought it'd be funny to screw around with Alfred's head a little, so we decided that one of us was going to be moving that arrow thingy, you know that thing you use for the letters. Anyway, when I thought it was time to start that plan, the thing started to move and I thought it was Eliza, but then when Alfred went into the bathroom she told me that she thought it was me moving it."

"Wait," Feliks cuts in. "Are you seriously telling me that you guys actually think you called up a ghost or whatever?"

Matthew shrugs slightly. "Well, it really seemed like that last night."

"Wow, you two really need stop hanging around your brother, you're both starting to trip out like him." With that, Feliks goes back to where he left off with the register. "Lookit, check it before you wreck it. You guys were spooked, Alfred totally freaks out more than the average person and that gave him more reason to, but he'll get over it. He always does."

Matthew gives him an odd sort of stare before saying, "Feliks, I think you just said something sensible."

Feliks flashes him a grin. "I know, right?"

Matthew chuckles as he finally begins to relax some.

"So where's it at?" Feliks asks suddenly.

"What?"

"The Oujia board, duh," he clarifies. "We're selling it now that you're done bringing dead people back and stuff, right?"

"We weren't bringing dead people back, just talking to them."

"Whatever, same diff. Where is it?"

"Um…" Matthew trails off; trying to remember the events of last night after the hasty clean up Eliza and him went through after Alfred disappeared. His eyes suddenly widen as he recalls Eliza shoving the last of the candles into the box and pushing the entire thing into a corner with other boxes filled with possessions Alfred had yet to unpack. "We left it in his apartment."

"Oohh, he's gonna flip when he finds out he slept in the same room as it."

Matthew instantly rounds on the smaller blonde. "You cannot tell him that, Feliks, you can't!"

"Well, how else do you think you're gonna like, be able to get it out of his place anyway?"

"I'll sneak it out the next time I'm over," Matthew half-plans. "It'll probably be later today anyway."

"And what's the grand master plan behind that? 'Oh, hey, Al, I'm just gonna take this box here. No, you don't have to know what's in it or anything, it's totally cool.'"

"Okay," Matthew says sheepishly, "so maybe not my best idea-"

"Really not."

"-but it's not like I can let him know. He's gonna be irrational about the whole thing, and never going to want to sleep in that room again. He's gonna claim it's possessed by whatever for the rest of eternity and won't rest until it's burned straight to the bowels of Hell."

"Wow, so no need to be that dramatic."

"Sorry."

"Nevermind," Feliks waves off. "Anyway, what you need, is like a distraction unit."

Matthew blinks at him. "What do you want out of it?"

"What makes you think I'm volunteering?"

"What do you want out of it," Matthew replies in a deadpan tone.

"Okaay," Feliks relents with a sly grin. "I want a go with the board."

"What?"

"Yeah, it'll be totes exciting, 'cause I've always wanted to play with one, but Toris always gets weird around them. Something about something happening when he was a kid with this one creepy girl he crushed on or whatever, but yeah."

"It's gonna be kinda hard to use it when he's living with you, how do you wanna get around that?"

"Easy, we'll just play at Alfred's. Okay, so like, we take an empty box upstairs with us and pretend the board's inside and all that, Alfred'll be all like: 'Wtf?', and we'll be like: 'McD lunches forever and ever!', even though that's a total lie. I'll keep him busy enough so that he doesn't notice you swapping them, we play for a few, take the real box, and he never knows!"

Feliks ends his strategic rant with a happy clap of his hands while Matthew is incapable of doing anything more than staring back at him incredulously.

"How is that you thought all that, but when it comes to actual important business, everything you say is ridiculous?" he finally asks after the initial shock wears off.

"Puhlease," Feliks replies with a hand up and a roll of his eyes. "Everything I ever say ever is ridiculously _amazing_ and it is soo not my fault if none of you can see that."

"Right…" Matthew trails off with a slight frown tugging at his lips. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think that's probably the best shot we have."

"Fer sure! I'll text Toris to let him know I'm coming home late."

As Feliks flees to the back of the store for his cellphone, Matthew slumps against the counter, his mind buzzing with their newly formulated plan. With a slight sigh, he at least resolves to seriously contemplate making good on those future-promised McDonald's lunches forever and ever.

**xxx**

-Just like Altered Beast, I rise from my grave!

-Anyway, yup! I am back and writing and posting and I'm not even sure how many are still waiting on this fic to be updated, but all the same I am very sorry for the wait.

-And on that note, how fabulous are_ you_, my little ghouls and monsters? Is everyone living their lives oh so pretty and shiny? And are we totes excited for what happens next? I'll let you know now that things start to get more physical. I should prolly put a non-con warning, because I'm pretty sure it is.

-Until next time, lovelies. And I promise that it will not take me months to update. -heart-


	3. Chapter 3

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter 3**  
>xxx<strong>

When Alfred answers his front door he expects a nameless pimply faced teenager dressed in a garish uniform carrying the standard bag used for delivering pizzas on the other side, not the sight of Feliks wearing a much too innocent look to be genuine and his brother carrying a familiar looking box.

He takes a moment to let the scene make an impression in his mind before he furrows his eyebrows, frowns at the two of them, and let's them have a very firm, "No."

"Oh, come on," Matthew responds. "Feliks really wants to try it out."

"So then let him take it home, you don't have to play here."

"I so would if I could," Feliks says. "But Toris'll totally freak if I do."

"That is not my problem," Alfred tells him. "You guys can come in if you want, chill and eat pizza with me, but that thing stays outside."

"If you let us play, I'll totally buy you McD's everyday forever and ever!"

The offer rouses Alfred's suspicions, it sounds like a deal too good to be true. He says as much to the shorter blonde.

"It's totally legit," Feliks promises. "I'll even give you cash no-limit, order the whole damn menu if you want."

The added bonus to the deal has Alfred pause in his rejection and play around with the ends of his pink scarf as he considers the options. While doing so, it gives Feliks and Matthew ample time to rouse up puppy-dog eyes and display them proudly.

"Yeah, okay," Alfred relents. "If you guys also promise to never make those faces again, I'll let you play."

While Matthew's shoulders sag in relief, Feliks promptly pushes his way inside and gives the entire place a look over while removing his coat. His eyes immediately stray to the nearby wall and the brown moving boxes still half-filled with items and clothing that haven't been bothered to put away before heading into the direction of the small kitchen section piled with even more clutter.

"God, Alfred," he says, "it's like you didn't even bother to finish moving in."

"So, I'm still working on it," the blonde shrugs.

"You've been up here for like, a year already."

"Keep bagging on my place, I can still throw you out," comes the threat. "Mickey D lunches or no."

As Feliks raises his hands up in defeat, Matthew inches to the corner he had seen Eliza shove their box into behind his brother's back. He catches Felik's eye and with a discreet nod from the other, goes on with his part of the plan to regain possession of the board.

"I'm not saying anything bad," Feliks goes on with Alfred. "Jeez, paranoid much? It's just, don't you have any aspirations for your place or anything? It's not like you don't have resources or whatever, I'm always around."

"The last thing I need is for you to make everything pink."

"Ouch. Okay, my color range totally varies! Like, come here," he takes Alfred by the hand and leads him closer into the kitchen are.

While Feliks distracts Alfred with conversations of how his dismal little kitchenette could be transformed into a chic number using minimal effort and lighter tones, Matthew drops the empty box and quickly searches all those nearby until he finally stumbles across the sound of rattling candle jars. He pulls it away with a small grin and sets it in the middle of the living room as they had the night before.

"Riveting discussion as it may be, Feliks," he interrupts loudly, "I told Arthur I'd be home early today."

Even though it was purely for the sake of distraction, Feliks can't help the subtle glare that's shot at Matthew as his point in how open cupboards would be beneficial for someone like Alfred has been cut off. He quickly shakes himself off though and rolls his eyes with a small huff.

"Fine," he says. "I'm gonna use the bathroom first, that okay?"

With both twin's approval, he saunters off into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Alfred crosses over to the sofa with quick steps just as Matthew starts to unpack the board and some of the jars and plops himself down.

"Gotta get home before bed time, huh?" he lightly teases.

"It's not like that," Matthew instantly replies. "And you know that."

"Know what?"

"That it just gives him peace of mind." Matthew sighs lightly and stops his movements. He turns to face Alfred and in a serious tone says, "He still worries about you, you know. I know he doesn't say it, ever, but he does."

For a split moment Alfred is taken aback by the confession, before he regains a stance of put-on indifference. "He doesn't have to," he says. "I'm doing fine on my own. Actually, a lot better on my own. And you can tell him that."

Matthew only shakes his head and goes back to his task. "That's one thing you both have in common. Stubborn as hell, both of you, I swear."

Any rebuttals from Alfred are cut-off by the sound of the water tap running. Any second Feliks will come out of the bathroom and could overhear their conversation, and Alfred has enough common sense to keep quiet on matters like family in front of others. Friends or not.

When Feliks does emerge from the bathroom, the first words out of his mouth are, "And we should really do something about your bathroom. I think a yellow would work in there."

"It'd hide the piss stains," Matthew laughs and receives a kick from his brother.

Feliks takes a seat on the floor across from Matthew and looks up at Alfred expectantly. "Aren't you gonna play with us?"

Matthew can sense more than see Alfred tense up at the question. He briefly wonders if Feliks is really willing to go broke in order to get Alfred to play along with them.

"I'd rather not," answers Alfred.

"Oh, come on," Feliks pesters. "You gonna tell me you really believed all that stuff that happened last night? You so know one of these bitches pulled that on you."

A sudden knock breaks the conversation much to Alfred's relief.

"That's gotta be the pizza," he tells them. "Look, I'm not playing. Final word. I'll watch you guys while I eat, but that's it." He pauses to think up any other conditions. "And we have to keep the lights on."

"So much for my first ghost experience," pouts Feliks.

"Deal with it."

As Feliks resumes pouting, Matthew simply chuckles and scoots the glass jars to the side before taking the initiative of turning off the television Alfred had been watching before their arrival. In all honesty, even he's glad to keep the lights on.

"Come on," he says to Feliks. "This is what you've been waiting for."

"I was hoping to freak him out," the other confesses.

"I figured, but just leave him alone."

With a defeated sigh Feliks makes himself more comfortable and listens as Matthew explains to him what they need to do in order to contact any spirits lurking about. As he does, Alfred pays for his pizza and drags the coffee table that had been cleared away for more space closer to his end of the sofa for food placement. With his first bite of a slice, he slumps in his seat and watches them begin to play.

"So, I'll go first," Feliks says and clears his throat. "Hey, ghost-person, is Raivis the one that totaled my straightener, because he's been acting waay too shady around me lately."

"Did you leave it by the sink again?" Alfred asks around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

"That is not the point. I want to know who dropped it in."

With that, Feliks quiets down and watches the planchette simply sit upon the board with his and Matthew's fingers resting on top. A solid minute goes by without a single movement.

"I don't know why I'm so disappoint," Feliks mutters.

"Maybe we should do some sort of formal calling?" suggests Matthew.

Alfred picks up another slice from the greasy box next to him while shaking his head. "I told you, you didn't have to-"

"Oh, Spirit World," Feliks calls out dramatically. "We totally call on someone from beyond or whatever to… I don't know, I guess, help us figure stuff out with their ghost-knowledge."

Alfred can't keep back his laughter. "Nice."

"Yeah, I think you're doing it wrong," Matthew laughs.

"Whatever, I don't see you making an effort here."

"Just try it again."

Once more, Feliks clears his throat. "Spirit! Can you please just like, tell me who broke my straightener?"

All three stare at the board, waiting with slight anticipation to see if the dial will move across the letters and give up the guilty party. It takes a few more seconds, but slowly, the planchette does start to move in a circular direction before taking course over the blackened lettering painted on the wood. Though when it does, the message that is painstakingly spelled out is A-L-F-R-E-D and promptly shocks them all.

"Alfred, you broke my straightener?" Feliks can't help but ask.

"Oh, yeah, I needed it for this commercial I was in," the blonde snaps at him. "Really, Feliks?"

"Well, why the hell else would this ghost be spelling out your name?" Feliks throws back at him. He snaps his attention at Matthew's who in turn stares at the board with widened eyes. "Mattie, are you trying to trip me out?"

Matthew shakes his head in the negative before finally gaining the ability to voice his denial. "It's not me," he says. "Honest."

"You can say if it is you," Alfred tells him. "I won't get mad or anything."

Matthew turns his focus to his brother and shakes his head again. "It's not me, I swear, it's not me."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the dial moves again, returning back to the letter A and goes on to spell out Alfred's name again.

"Oh, my God! Ghost-person, what the eff is your deal?" Feliks barks at the board.

Matthew pulls his fingers back from the planchette as the speed of it racing over the board increases as it continuously spells out Alfred's name again and again. Eventually, even Feliks lets it go, and as soon as he does, it finally stops moving.

"It so wasn't me," he says automatically in a low tone. "I wasn't doing anything, I swear."

"Why isn't it doing anything now though?" Alfred wonders aloud. "If it wasn't either of you…"

"Maybe it's waiting for a reply?"

"A reply like what though?"

"I don't think it matters," Matthew whispers. "I think it just wants to talk to you, Al."

All three jump, even shout a little, when the planchette begins to move again, slowly once more, as it had in the beginning. It travels not far on the board, going from the letter D up on the left-hand corner to settle on the word 'YES'.

The forgotten slice of pizza in Alfred's hand falls to the wooden floorings with a sick _splat_ against the surface as he stares at the answer. The color drains from his face and his lower lip starts to tremble. He starts to feel fear begin to creep through his body.

Feliks is the first to recover. With one look at the Alfred sitting petrified on the sofa, a small burst of anger causes him to come to his friend's side.

"Listens here, ghost person," he directs in all directions. "I don't know if you're doing this on purpose or what, but you have no right to freak out _my_ friend and try to chat him up afterwards, so back the hell up."

Before he could even close his mouth, the board on the living room floor begins to quake and vibrate. Soon after the entire side opposite of Feliks flips up and is thrown in his direction, rousing a startled cry and has him fall backwards in order to avoid being hit by the sudden assault.

"I think you pissed it off," says Matthew after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Totes…"

Curled up on the sofa, Alfred stares down upturned board, breathing unevenly and willing himself to take actions. "I can't," he finally says, "Mattie, you need to get this thing out. Now!"

Quicker than ever, Matthew springs into action, gathering up the board and its dial before he tosses them precariously back into the confines of the cardboard box without so much as a second thought. Even the glass candle jars are put away with out much care, causing the contents to lie against each other at odd angles and makes packing them all away a bit more difficult than necessary.

When it's all done, the box's lid folded in a way that hides everything away, Matthew stands and takes a few steps away from it; Feliks follows his example and shifts away even further as well.

"I'm sorry," Matthew finally says to Alfred, and though he feels like he should be able to say more, he can't find the proper words to express anything.

"It's fine," Alfred replies. "Just get it out. Please."

Without another word, Matthew moves closer once more and lifts the box into his arms. He gives Feliks a short look, telling him that they're stay has just been cut short. As Feliks goes about gathering his coat and putting it back on, Matthew continues to apologize to his brother, letting him know that he didn't mean for something like this to happen.

Alfred gives him no reply; he only stares after the two as they make their exit. Even as Matthew gives him a final goodbye and promises to see him soon, he doesn't say anything even though he really does want to ask the other something before leaving. He only nods his agreement and watches Feliks leave the apartment first and then Matthew close the door behind him.

As the door shuts, Matthew lets his shoulders sag with the weight of the box and gives Feliks an unreadable expression as they make their way for the stairs.

"So how was that for your first Ouija board experience?" he asks as they trudge down the staircase together.

"Yeah, so never playing again," Feliks answers and then lets out a rather heavy sigh. "I am so totally gonna have to buy him McD lunches now…"

Meanwhile, back in his apartment, Alfred hasn't moved from his place on the sofa. His eyes roam from the closed door back to the spot where not long before something supernatural had most definitely happened. It takes a few more moments until he realizes the mess he's made with his dinner, and though he knows he should clean up the splattered mess, he doesn't have the energy do that or to put away the rest of the pizza. There's no way he could finish his meal now, his appetite's completely disappeared.

So, instead, he steps over the fallen slice of pizza and crosses over to his front door. He pulls it open and sticks his head out and looks around on both sides before slamming it shut and locking it up tight. Alfred then makes his way to his bed, climbs on top of it to reach his window and shuts that as well, even locking it in place for extra measure.

But now the room seems to quiet and Alfred finds himself turning the television back on for the sake of background noise. He's too drained and exhausted to even consider sitting down in front of it and watching any. No, in all honestly even though it's still somewhat early, Alfred simply wants to crawl under his blankets and huddle into himself until he just about forgets everything.

He makes his way back to his bed, leaving the lights on and the volume set low but still audible, and kicks off his jeans. He unwraps the scarf from around his neck and sets it down on the end table nearby; his glasses follow not long after. Alfred then settles himself underneath the blankets of his bed, curls into himself, and closes his eyes.

He attempts to block out everything in his mind, attempts to forget everything that has transpired under his roof, and is intent to just sleep it all away. Eventually, he slips away into a fitful sleep, his body still tensed and hands still clenched at the blankets surrounding him while he rustles about restlessly. It's not the ideal form of sleep his body needs, but it works well enough and is even peaceful in its own way.

But it doesn't last long.

At around the same time as before, part of the mattress behind Alfred's form dips, and though he feels it, he doesn't stir. It's different this time around, there's no cold sensation that creeps over his body, but he does feel a solid mass press up against his back, but for some reason he won't wake.

Not even at the sound of another's breathing clear as crystal panting in his ear, or from the dig of a chin rested against his shoulder blade, and not even the wandering feel of another's hand wakes him as it glides over his arm and settles against his chest and slowly trails downwards.

Alfred's breathe hitches in his sleep when deft fingers toy with the hem of his shirt and slip underneath. He uncurls himself, relaxes his body in response to what seems to be blunt fingernails raking their way back up his chest. A small sigh escapes him when the pressure of lips imprints themselves against his neck in a kiss, practically comforting in an attempt to further relax the blonde's tensed muscles.

It works, Alfred's legs unfurl and stretch out, even his torso becomes more pliable as the onslaught of small pecks is dusted across his shoulder blade and that hand travels downwards once more. A stirring even begins to grow in his groin as the lips pressed against his shoulder returns to his neck and nibble against a sensitive area. It's heightened even further as the hand reaches his boxers and glides right underneath them.

Tiny gasps and small moans spill forth from Alfred's lips as teasing strokes and fluttering touches awaken his member. When the hand finally circles around the base of his cock and strokes upwards to bring him to a fully erect state, there the feeling of hips grinding into him from behind that has him buck upwards and arch into the touch before falling back and responding in the same way much to his bed-mate's delight and only has him increase his ministrations. It doesn't take long for the blonde to become a panting mess and loses himself to the sensations of reaching his peak.

At the reach of his climax, Alfred's eyes snap open. He jolts up in bed, panting slightly and feeling even more tired than when he had first gone to bed. If he were to describe it, he would have to say that he honestly felt as though he had an orgasm, and even feels inclined to find if there is any proof of it.

But he doesn't find anything. His body may feel as though it's been thoroughly gratified sexually, but there is no evidence as to prove that true. His clothing has not been disturbed, no stickiness to be felt in his undergarments, no wet splotches on his neck from a mouth, nothing. He waits for something to happen again, something like what happened before to prove that it's real, but nothing does.

It leaves him to wonder if it had really happened or if it was just a dream.

**xxx**

-This took a lot longer to post than I wanted. Neighbors changed their wi-fi password and it took a while to crack. Nah, jk, I don't really know what's going on with their Internet and their wi-fi keeps going on an off and my window of opportunity to use it keeps getting smaller and smaller, it's getting annoying.

-Anyway, Alfred! Y u no leave with Mattie? Matthew! Y u no take Alfred home with you? Feliks! … Y u be so fetch? XD Srsly though, stuff's pretty messed and I'm thinking there's only going to be four or five more chapter left.

(And this is probably irrelevant, but does anyone watch American Horror Story? :D H.O.M.G. That is all I have to say, I'm totally crazy over it. Tips.)

-Thanks so much for the reviews guys! I know I haven't replied to all of them, but I love them with all my being! Srsly, they are little highlights of my day and I really appreciate the time taken to give whatever kind of feedback. ^-^

-Until next time, lovelies, nighty-night.


	4. Chapter 4

**xxx**

Chapter 4

**xxx**

Eliza has a mothering streak. Everyone knows, and no one minds. She cares for her friends and for her employees, and if one should so happen be both, well, they tend to receive double the attention.

Which is the reason behind her scruntinized stare towards one Alfred F. Jones.

"Alfred!" she calls out, and continues on to say once she has the blonde's attention, "You look like shit."

Alfred falters from his position at the other side of the store where he had been rearranging racks of jeans and other pants. He quickly picks himself straight and tugs at the bulky wool sweater clinging to his torso before running a hand through his hair, feeling the grease leftover from improper washing slide right up against his skin. The comment may have been unexpected, but not undeserved, and this, Alfred was quite sure. He sighs a bit to himself and plays with the ends of his scarf while making to turn towards Eliza, to reply with something, but is unable to as the woman herself marches right up to him.

"No, really," she tells him. "You look pretty bad, are you okay?"

"Eh," he replies with a shrug. "Kind of a rough night. Y'know, just couldn't sleep well, I guess."

Immediately her face crumples with what could be guilt. She wets her lips and takes one of her hands to place on his shoulder, and in the most mothering tone he's ever heard her use, she says, "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Get some sleep while it's still light out?"

For some reason, instead of the usual ausement that accompanies actions such as these, Alfred beings to feel agitated, frustrated, even bordering on angry. He isn't exactly certain why is that, but the bubble of emotion is enough for him to shake her hand away, even force is off with a hand of his own, practically slapping it from his shoulder.

"I'm not afraid of the dark!" he snaps, brows furrowed and mouth twisted downwards.

"I wasn't saying that!" she replies just as loudly, her eyes wide and filled with disbelief. "Alfred, what the hell?"

Suddenly the rush of everything he had just been feeling dissapiates, leaving him to feel even more drained and exhausted than before. His entire posture slumps over and he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. Whatever is it that is happening to him, it's terribly overdone and Alfred wishes that it would just go away.

"I'm sorry," he says after a great while while pulling his hands away and flashing Eliza a small apologetic smile. "I'm being a dick and it's not your fault, I'm just... really tired."

This admission causes Eliza to grow even more concered if possible, and she raises her hands to give the blonde some comfort, but stops herself. If his earlier spectacle is anything to by, perhaps it's not the best time to make any physical contact. So, instead, Eliza pulls her hands to her chest, and calls Alfred's name softly.

"Look," she begins, "for the past week, it's like everyday I see you coming in looking worse and worse, and that include's the days you just come in to get lunch from Feliks. I'm not saying you're afraid or anything, but maybe... maybe, you psyched yourself with something from that night and it's keeping you from sleeping okay at night, or-"

"No, I-" he interrupts and cuts himself short. He takes a deep breath, ready to say something, looks Eliza straight in the eye, and hesitates. He wants to tell her. He wants to say that, yes, maybe he did psych himself with something from that night, and even the night Matthew and Feliks played, but it's not exactly true.

Because Alfred hasn't been losing sleep, he's been getting plenty, but when he wakes up in the mornings, bruised and sticky and feeling worn down, it's as though he hasn't at all slept. Although, even that's become literal. In an attempt put a stop to the reasons behind him feeling this way, Alfred's abstained from sleeping for the past two days, opting for five minute naps in between hours of cola and coffee and now he's begun to feel the strain of his actions.

It's not that he's psyched himself to be afraid of the dark, but to be afraid of falling asleep and allowing that... thing that keeps happening in his dreams to sap everything out of his and leave him unable to awake.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead, he gives Eliza another watery smile and weak nod. "Yeah, maybe... I just need to sleep."

Though she's still frowing, Eliza nods her head in return. "Take the rest of the day, and let me know if you need tomorrow, I'll get Feli to fill in."

"I'll be fine for tomorrow."

"You know what? I'll call Feli in and you take it anyway. There, now it's something you have to do."

Alfred looks ready to start a small argument over the arrangement, let's the matter drop with reluctant acceptance once Eliza places her hands on her hips. "What about today though?"

"I'll just tell Feliks to stay the extra hour when he gets back from the warehouse," she waves off. "Go sleep. I want you to be your normal obnoxious self soon, and help us all, I really did just say that."

"Alright, alright," Alfred half-laughs with an actual smile, however small. "I'll see you later, then?"

Eliza replies in agreement and watches carefully as he begins to take his usual route through the back to his apartment above the store. Just as he reaches behind the counter though, she does a quick trot in following his footsteps and call out to him once more.

"Just..." she begins when she has his attention. "If you need anything Alfred, call me. Or call Mattie, or Feliks, just please call someone. Okay?"

Alfred briefly nods to her words, but says nothing more as he ducks into the back and out of her sight.

Eliza sighs softly to herself and takes over where Alfred left off with the pants racks. She thinks to herself on how true her words to him had been. Alfred'd health seems to have deteriorated to great lengths since that night with the Ouija board, and she did feel partly guilty for that. Maybe if she had not been so persistent in wanting to play along with Matthew, none of this would be happening to him? She really didn't think that at the time he would be so affected by what had transpired.

A sudden thought occured to her. What if his sleeping disorder is constructed from the fear that grew within the confines of his apartment that night? It's possible. Maybe all Alfred needs is some time away to regroup and he'll be able to deal with it once he is himself again.

As she thinks up the best way to address this train of thought to Alfred the next time she sees him, Feliks comes in through the front door, looking pleased with himself.

"So I just scored us a hella good deal," he says without preamble. "They're gonna take half the winter wear and all of the mismatched shoes- Liz? Hello? Are you listening?"

Eliza is ripped from her thoughts and blinks at Feliks in a matter that makes it apparent that she had just noticed his presence.

"When did you get back?" she asks.

"Just now," he replies with an eye roll. "Seriously, what's your deal, it doesn't take you that long to notice my fabulousness."

"I sent Alfred home early," she admits to him and suddenly his whole demeanor changes.

"Oh, my glob, please tell me he didn't pass or anything, I swear when I saw him in that fugly sweater, saying that it was too cold or something, earlier, I thought he was gonna keel over and just die and I've just been like, he can't do that! I still so totally owe him like a million five hundred thousand Big Macs because of that scary ass ghost that just wouldn't step off his grill and-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Eliza cuts in. "What ghost?"

For the first time since she has known him, Feliks remains quiet. That in itself causes her to worry, but it in now way prepares her for what he tells her next.

"Mattie told me how you three played with that Oujia board, which I have not seen up for sale anywhere in the store by the way, and... I got curious."

"What happened?" she pestered, eager to know.

"Well..." Feliks trails off with a bite to his lower lip. "Nothing happened at first, yeah? And then, that little plastic thing with the glass you look through at the letter or whatever started spelling out Alfred's name and it just would. Not. Quit. And then... Well, he was getting freaked out and I just so could not let someone do that to him, dead or not."

"Feliks. What. Did. You. Do?"

"I told him to step off." He stamps his feet at the sight of Eliza burying her face into her hands. "Liz!"

"I'm sorry," she says, though it's a bit muffled. She pulls away from her hands and pushes her hair back with one hand. "Okay, you are the only person I know who would tell a ghost to step off. But anyway, what else?"

"The thing flipped over."

"What?"

"Yeah, I guess the ghost didn't like it or whatever, y'know, me telling it off, so it totally threw the board at me."

Eliza stares at him for a long moment. "You're serious."

"Dead."

"Bad choice of words."

"Sorry."

Eliza huffs and rubs at the back of her neck. New information in hand, she rethinks everything she had analyzed before and realizes that despite the uncannyness of it all, this really is something that is happening.

"I need to call my grandma," she states and moves for the back room.

"Your grandma?" Feliks questions and follows. "Why?"

"She might know something about dealing with bad spirits."

"Wow, Liz, really?"

Eliza instantly rounds on him, hands on hips and sharply says to him, "What do you think we should do then Feliks? Because it sounds to me like no matter how crazy this seems to be, it is happening and it is doing something to Alfred, I don't know what, and it's our fault."

Feliks, wide eyed with his arms crossed across his chest, doesn't keep eye contact with her for very long until he quickly averted his gaze downwards to the floor.

"I think we should get Mattie in all this," he says quietly and Eliza calmly agrees. "Also... I so don't know if it's actually like, true or whatever, but I totally think Toris knows something about this stuff."

Even though Eliza looks a bit unsure, she nods all the same. "Okay, yeah, we can talk to him too. Keep an eye on the front, I'm gonna make the call."

Meanwhile, as they had carried out their conversation, Alfred reaches his apartment and spent quite a few minutes simply just standing at the front door, wondering whether or not he should even go inside. Eventually, when coming to the grips of not really wanting to give into whatever's been happening and showing how frightend he is enough to run away, he pushes his key into the lock, turns the knob, and makes himself walk through the threshold.

It doesn't look any different than before, and sometimes it even feels the same as before, but knowing what's to come should his head fall forward and his eyes close...

He hugs himself as he shuts the door behind him with his foot and makes a beeline for his fridge. He instantly reaches for a can of Coke, hoping the caffeine will keep him up long enough to have a shower.

And right there, that thought stops him as well, causing him to look towards the bathroom door that is now kept firmly locked at all times. It hadn't been an issue at the beginning, but steady on, as the days went by, he's began to feel increasingly uncomfortable in the confined space. His showers are more rushed and almost always half-done, complete with paranoid glances at the shower curtain and peaks upwards to see if there is anyone daring to look over the curtain and the complete avoidance of looking into the mirror in fear that he will see something there, which in all honesty, happens regularly.

Alfred pops the tab of the can open and takes four large gulps in quick sucession and makes his way to the sofa, deciding to forgoes the shower just now, maybe later. He finishes off his soda while turning the on the television and tosses the empty can to the other side where a steady collection has been growing. He channel surfs mostly, all in an attempt to find something distracting enough to prolong the want for sleep.

He gets a good half hour or so of sitting conciously in front of the screen before his eyes beging to feel heavy and the pull is suddenly too great for any more avoidance. Too exhausted to lift himself from his seat to retrieve more caffeine, Alfred blinks blearily at the screen in front of him, each time lasting a little longer than the last before his eyes are closed and he's snoring away in his seat, slumped backwards and head tilting over the top of the sofa.

His sleep extends past the five minute mark he's recently taken up, and Alfred is able to reach a deep slumber, one that he hasn't experienced for the past two days. The dreamlike state that's been happening to him does not ease in as per custom, it's a sudden onslaught of touching sensations, as though the other being has been just as starved for this moment as Alfred has been and is taking great advantage of the opportunity.

A weight appears in his lap out of nowhere, straddling his thighs as ghostly hands reach under his bulky jacket and scrape against the thin material of his t-shirt none too gently. He gasps in his sleep from the sensation, and just as he begins to force himself out and wake himself up, he feels lips, thin and cold press against his eyes with featherlight kisses and it's as though his lids have been glued shut. The hands he feels reach back down to the hem of his sweater and rolls it upwards.

Already, Alfred starts up his fighting against it all. He doesn't want this to happen again, he wants his peace of mind back, the ability to sleep without feeling as though the very life is going to be sucked out of him when it comes time to wake up. His hands lift up in his unconsious state, attempting to bat those hands away and ironically enough, only serve to help peel the piece of clothing up and over his head easier than if he were to have remained limp.

He's murmuring now, unheard pleas and words for this unwanted contact to stop. He even manages to grab onto what feels like upper arms, the firm muscle below his fingers giving way to the anatomy and thinks that maybe he could make it stop, not at all concerened with how too real this is becoming. Instead of putting a halt to the actions though, the assault continues with fingers reaching past his grasp and carefully pushing the scarf still wrapped around to the side, revealing a long expanse of neck and pulls his head back for easier access.

"No," he mutters, fingers clenching in mid-air. "Don't... no more..."

There's a wet pressure at the base of his throat, one that slowly moves upwards in a broad stripe. It reaches the point of his chin and continues to Alfred's lips, takes just a second to bite at the blonde's jutting lower lip. It causes Alfred to gasp sharply once more, and once he does, that wet pressure is back, licking its way right into his mouth as lips encase his in a searing kiss.

It tastes like ice and winter nights and is overbearing at first, but slowly melts into his mouth in a sensation that is foreign and for some reason addicting, and Alfred feels inclined to reciprocate for being given this. It's also encouraging for the other, the weight in his lap grinds down into him, practically rutting and Alfred feels his heart begin to race, begins to feel his blood catch fire as it races through his veins and the familiar pool of warmth in his pelvic region.

His hands are shaken off and fall limply to his sides as those hands slide down his body once more as their kiss breaks and Alfred is left gasping. The weight on his lap migrates off and he feels the press of another body against his legs, one that is spreading them apart as the hands reach the waistband of his pants and fiddle the button open before working down the zipper. One pushes fabric out of the way while another dives into it all and palms Alfred's half-hard erection through his boxers, willing it to full hardness as quickly as possible.

Alfred clenches and unclenches his hands as he succumbs to it, even raises his hips to allow his jeans and underwear to be pulled down and his cock to spring free. A low groan emerges from the back of his throat as he's taken in hand and feels small puffs of air being showered onto his heated skin. His mouth falls open and his breathing turns harsher at the first pressure of lips pursing against the underside of his erection right before that tongue emerges past them and takes a long, languid swipe upwards, right to the very tip of his head and is engulfed whole.

Alfred runs on basic instinct and thrusts straight up into the lukewarm wetness that surrounds him, taking pleasure in the free reign given to him to do so and in the feeling of another erection pressing against his denim clad leg, seeking friction, seeking a release of its own.

He doesn't last long, he comes in a series of short bursts of shallow thrusts and fists the sofa underneath his fingertips as his back arches up just so and ejaculates straight into his partner's throat. Alfred slumps back into the sofa, sated and feeling oversensitised, and listens to the remaining sounds of flesh rubbing against leg and the laboured breaths of someone reaching their climax without a second thought, as if it's all a normal occurence. It isn't until he hears something new, something akin to a voice that he's most certainly never heard before that snaps him out of it and has him focus because it could very well be something that he thinks is there but isn't really.

No, Alfred hears it, he swears he hears a sound that most definitely could not be mistaken for one of his own. A small high-pitched little noise that accompanies the orgasm he can sense staining the legs of his jeans and his eyes finally snap open with him swallowing in a large gulp of fresh air. There's no one else in the room, none that he can see, but he most certainly can still feel them. He feels the digits that had man-handled him still pressing into his body and the slick wetness of being licked from his throat to his face, and worse yet is the undeniable evidence left behind.

His sweater really has been taken off and tossed precariously towards the other side of the sofa, his scarf moved aside to allow access to his neck, and his jeans are pulled down along with his boxers, his member softening and on display. A bit shell-shocked, Alfred bends over slowly and reaches for his legs wanting to feel if there is anything here that shouldn't be, and he isn't able to keep a small dismayed whimper when he barely brushes against his findings.

There's semen on his pant leg, he doesn't know to whom it belongs, but it makes him feel ill all the same. He swallows back the bile that rises in his throat and shucks them off along with his underwear and his shirt. He quickly races around his apartment, throwing on new clothes, and gathers his keys, his wallet, his scarf, turns off the television, and storms out through the front door.

He doesn't know where he's going, but he can't stay here.

**xxx**

-Sooo... is anyone still here? Hm? No? Just me? Well... alright then.

-I mean, I'm still gonna finish this off as well as some other things. If anyone's still reading, thanks so much for your time.

-I'll see you lovelies later then. Won't say when, because it seems like whenever I do, I take forever because something horribly _horribly_ serious has interrupted my writing schedule. :/

(Also, I hope it wasn't just me, but when I wrote 'the very life is going to be sucked out of him when it comes' I totally giggled inappropriately.)


	5. Chapter 5

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter 5  
><strong>xxx<strong>

"So, did you get a hold of her yet?"

It's the first question Feliks throws at Eliza the second he walks through the front door the next day, the bells above the door adding to the show of his rather loud presence. He bypasses the odd glance thrown at him from a couple of patrons in the store for the volume he speaks while striding through he center aisle at a brisk pace. Eliza closes her eyes and counts to three, quickly enough so that the customer at the register doesn't become frustrated enough to complain over slow service and continues her work. In that time, Feliks makes his way to the front counter, places his hands on his hips, and waits, impatience clearly tugging at his lips.

"Hello, to you, too," she says after finishing her ring-up and the customer turns away.

Feliks shrugs off the subtle scolding with a simple wave of his hand. "Did you get a hold of your grandma last night."

A heavy sigh escapes Eliza and her entire body deflates by just a margin. She had been completely enthused in contacting her grandmother the previous day, only to be informed by another member of her family that she would be unavailable until the next morning. It left them to the mercy of many search engines and inconclusive if not questionable results while taking turns in helping customers in the store front. It was a bit frustrating, Eliza admits, and finally making contact with her grandmother had been a deliverance, and yet...

"She's so pissed at me," Eliza confesses. "I remember now why I never wanted to make her angry as a kid whenever we visited."

"What happened?"

"She yelled at me for a full hour over playing with the damn board and messing with things I shouldn't." Another heavy sigh escapes her and a raised hand scratches at the back of her head. "I thought she might know what to do, some superstition or tradition I hadn't been told yet, but no, not really. She suggested we burn it-"

"That totally sounds like a legit thing to do."

"-but a lot of the websites say that's a pretty bad thing to do!"

"That one guy from that one show I was watching like, during Halloween or something did that," Feliks recounts. "There was something creeping all up in his house and it all started with a Ouija board. So he threw it in his sink and lit that bitch up... Actually, he still left the house at the end so...?"

Another heavy sigh and a raised hand to scratch at the back of her head, Eliza shrugs and says, "I don't know. I think we'll need to actually do some real research and not just read what people on Yahoo are asking."

It's at this moment that they hear a rather loud commotion coming from the backroom. With the subject of their conversation being what it is, the sudden slam of the back door and thundering footsteps cause them to jump in fear, and in Feliks' case, clutch at his chest and instantly berate the cause of it all.

"Mattie," he exclaims. "You totally scared the fack outta me, lumpin-a!"

Matthew, short of breath and glasses askew, hangs off the archway leading into the back of the store and hurriedly asks, "Do either of you know where Alfred is?"

"He's not at home?" Eliza asks in return, that mothering nature seeping into her tone.

Matthew shakes his head frantically. "I was knocking and knocking, and thought maybe he was just sleeping in so I used the spare he gave me to get in and he wasn't there. But it's like, I don't know guys, it's like he hasn't been there at all."

"Did you call his phone?"

"Rings for a few then goes to voicemail."

"Okay, let's chill for a sec here," Feliks cuts in. "The boy's nineteen, he could just be out doing like, I dunno, normal nineteen year old stuff or something."

"Yeah, I'd believe that if he didn't look like he was about to pass out every ten seconds for the past coupl'a days."

The truth of his words are not lost on them, they know well enough that someone of Alfred's health could not be out and about, exerting energy they clearly do not have on errands nor trivialities. It causes a new sense of panic to bubble up within them, and a smidgen of more guilt in Eliza for wanting to play at the beginning for the sole purpose of scaring him.

"We should never have played that stupid game," she mumbles just loud enough for them to hear.

A small quirk of a smile lifts at the corner of Matthew's lips. "You connected that, too?"

"I'd been thinking that he was just too scared to sleep, but then Feliks here decided to lemme in on what happened when you guys played _again_..."

Matthew has the decency to look away from her, feeling just as guilty as Eliza. "It's my fault, I wanted to scare him, wanted to see if what happened when we played would happen again, and I should have stayed with him. This whole time, not just this night."

"No," says Feliks. "It's totally my fault. I mean, like, I pretty much pressured you into playing again."

"Hey yeah, you did pressure me, it is your fault."

Feliks snaps his attention over to Matthew directly, quicker than ever, and fixes him a glare. "Oh, whatever, like you so couldn't not given into me and all that."

Before Matthew could reply and throw the whole conversation into a battle over to whom the fault belongs, the bells hanging above the door ring out again, cutting them off as they usually do by the means of making them want to see who it is that's entered. It's Feliciano, known to them simply as Feli, his auburn hair bouncing slighly with his steps as he walks. At first glance, Eliza's relieved to see his face, if any person could put a stop to any fighting, it's Feli. Though as he approaches the counter, they all begin to recognize that concerned expression written across his face that they've all grown to seeing on each other and the reason behind him wearing it can only be unfavorable.

"Hey, guys," he greets with a small smile. He then rounds to Matthew and without hesitation asks, "Is everything okay with Alfred?"

Matthew instantly perks at the question. "Have you seen him? Where is he?"

"He's outside with Gilbert and Lovino right now," Feli tells him. "Well, he's sleeping in the car anyway. He fell asleep on the ride over. I don't think he's been getting enough sleep. Or showers. Or food."

"What?"

"Yeah, Lovino wasn't too happy about not getting seconds at dinner last night, but because Alfred looked like he really needed it, he didn't say anything. Well, he did say something, but it wasn't as loud. And with less cursing."

Matthew leaves their company without so much as another word, racing through the center aisle and almost knocking into a couple of teen girls carrying their purchases to the front. While he rushed through the door, Eliza quickly called the girl's attention back to the cash register and begins to ring up their items in no time. Feliks waits until their transaction is complete, not wanting any eavesdroppers when he finally asks the other to continue his story.

"Okay so, Feli, baby, I love you and all," he says when they've left the register, "but can you start at the beginning of the story? Did Alfred stay at your guys' last night?"

Feliciano nods and begins by saying, "He called me some time in the afternoon and asked if he could come over. I told him that of course he could, so he showed up and he looked terrible, worse than he has been! He was pale, and shaky, and kinda smelled bad, so I offered him the bathroom because Alfred never looks like that! He looked better when he came out though, but not really because he even turned down Gilbert for a game at Mario Kart and he never does that! Anyway, I told him he could have stayed as long as he wanted, but he kept saying that he needed to deal with _it_ sooner or later... What's _it_?"

Both Eliza and Feliks glance at each other, thinking along the same lines, that there is something definitely wrong with the apartments upstairs.

"Okay," says Eliza. "Feliks, you're not on schedule today, do you wanna go in the back to look some more stuff on-line? We can work on it together on my breaks and when the store's slow."

Feliks immediately agrees to the arrangement with a quick thumbs up while Feliciano watches their exchange silently. It's only when Feliks scurries off to the backroom to do as he's told does he ask, "What's going on?"

Eliza gives him the condensed version of events that have transpired and of how they've affected Alfred's well-being for the past week, particularly focusing on their suspicions, even if they sound completely improbable. This, however, does nothing to deter Feliciano from paling himself while looking at her entirely in disbelief.

"Why would you do that?" he cries.

"I didn't think anything would happen," she attempts to explain. "I just... it's a game!"

There's not many instances in which Feliciano adopts a serious expression, hardly anything ever pushes him to do so, and yet, here in front of Eliza he wears one. Directed at her, and in the lowest tone she's ever heard from him say, "You shouldn't mess with things that have been around longer than you."

Eliza feels her throat constrict by a fraction and her eyes drop to the floor. Her grandmother had said something along the lines of what he has just said to her while being scolded, and as she briefly wonders if there had been anything else she must have missed learning when she was younger, Matthew comes back into the store, walking at a brisk pace.

"He's not gonna wake up any time soon," he tells them. "He looks better though. The bags under his eyes aren't as bad as they were yesterday."

"That's good," Eliza replies with a small smile.

"Yeah, but he's still pretty wrecked." Matthew huffs as he comes to stand next to her. "I was able to wake him long enough to ask if he wanted to come back home for awhile, but he's still saying no. I just don't know... Liz?"

Eliza shakes her head sadly, not knowing how to answer. "I don't know how to fix what happened between him and Arthur. I don't even know what happened."

Matthew's shoulders sag and he readjusts his glasses with such a forlorn expression that it tugs at heartstrings. "Guess it would help if I knew, too. Well... I'm gonna stay with him for awhile." He gives his attention to Feliciano and asks him, "He slept okay at your place, yeah?"

Feliciano nods his head. "He slept in my room with me. I think its better for him when someone's around."

Matthew's eyes dart over to Eliza. "You told him?" he asks, and is given a short nod as an answer. "Okay then, um... So, Gilbert and Lovino are bringing the car around, I'm gonna help them take him up and then I need someone to stay with him while I grab some things from the house."

"I'll do it," both Eliza and Feliciano volunteer simultaneously.

Matthew can't help a small grin. "What about the store?"

Eliza quickly steps forward and cups her hands around her mouth. "Sorry, guys, but the store's gotta close early today! If you've found something to buy, bring it up to pay, if not... maybe next time!"

Matthew gestures for Feliciano to follow him out the back way, leaving Eliza to manage whatever is left of the customers after many take their leave. The two pass Feliks on the way and tell him the gist of what is going on and to meet them upstairs when he's through with the computer. Feliks complies with the request easily enough and turns back to the screen the moment the back door shuts behind them.

"So what do you think it is?" he asks Matthew while they wait for his brother and friend to pull around. "Just a bad ghost, or... y'know, something worse?"

"Does it really matter?" Matthew questions in return. "What's the difference between the two if this is what it does to my brother either way?"

"It can be worse," Feliciano replies just as a familiar shabby looking four-door comes into sight. "I can always be worse."

Matthew simply shrugs as thee car comes to a full stop beside them. "I don't really wanna think about that, Feli. Alls I want right now, is to get him to focus enough on finding a long term solution to whatever this is."

Behind the wheel, Gilbert shuts the vehicle down and leans over Lovino in the passenger seat to ask Matthew, "So which one of us is gonna lift fast-food fatass up those stairs?"

Matthew may crack a smile at the nickname, but his posture reeks of resignation. "Honestly, man, I think were both gonna have to do it."

Because Alfred, for as thin as he appears, weighes a lot more than any of them anticipate.

He floats in a state of half-awareness, too content in his more rested state to do much of anything except listen to the complaints coming from Matthew and Gilbert over not only carrying him up a flight of steps, but also over who's the one holding him up the most. Really, some of the ways they state their frustrations are too amusing that Alfred can't help but let out a low-keyed chuckle.

"Hey," Gilbert reacts to the sound as quick as lighting. "No way, if you're awake, I'm not carrying you up anymore, I don't care how wrecked up you are."

"H've ta," Alfred mumbles. "Too tired."

His statement is accentuated by the yawn buried into Matthew's shoulder as the man himself shrugs more of Alfred's weight onto his side. When they reach the landing, Matthew asks, "Alfred, are you sure you want to be here, you can stay somewhere, y'know."

"What the hell, Mattie," Gilbert grouses. "We just dragged him up here, I'm not taking him back down."

Alfred shakes his head into the crook of Matthew's neck. "Nah... nah, I'll be fine, I just... stay with me?"

Matthew taps his head with this own lightly. "Yeah, I will." He guides them further down the walkway, and when they're close to Alfred's door, he turns his head back as best as he can to look at Eliza who had joined them along with Feliks halfway through their journey upwards. "Liz, do you think you can get my keys from my pocket. They're in the front right one."

"I might have something in my pocket too," Gilbert says. "If you wanna reach for it."

The reply to him is two separate punches coming from either side of him, one to the part of his back not covered by Alfred, and the other one straight to the bottom of his gut. It has him collapse slightly, but he keeps his position and fixes a small glare at Lovino. "It was a joke."

"So's you sleeping by yourself, you stupid asshole, see how funny you think that is."

Alfred chuckles sleepily once more, much to Gilbert's annoyance, and Eliza gets the door open. The two of them push past her and head for the and make to throw Alfred on the nearest available surface.

"Just toss him on the couch," Matthew tells him. "I'll move him later, but just for now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, when he wakes up a little more or something."

They heave him onto the couch with a loud thump, simply dropping him onto his back and waking him up completely, though he refrains from opening his eyes. Alfred throws an arm over his eyes, digging his glasses into his nose and mutters, "I'm really glad you two aren't nurses or anything. Your bedside manners suck."

"Nurses have gurneys," Gilbert says. "We just carried you up here with sheer awesome."

Alfred makes no reply. Instead he opts for listening to Matthew quickly tell him that the three from downstairs will be staying with him while he picks up some items from home and will be back to stay for awhile. He hears Glibert pop his back as he walks away, and the low mutterings of them speaking right outside the door. He's ready to fall right back asleep, just as he hears Feliks join the party, his loud voice carrying over quite clearly. There's Lovino cursing up a storm again and Eliza telling Matthew everything will be fine and Feliciano ask if it's okay to use the kitchen while Alfred was sleeping and he's starting to drift back to sleep.

And then the door slams shut and the lock clicks in place.

It's the latter that Alfred jumps at, causing him sit straight up, wide eyed and alert. The door knob jiggles and Matthew's voice carries through the wood, calling his name out tentatively at first and growing more urgent. Someone is yelling for Eliza to hurry up with the key, but at that point Alfred's already up and making a dash for the door. He's only half-way there when if wraps around his waist.

It's a warm, solid, and very muscular arm, with a hand attached that's grabbing at his hip and digging the sharp point of nails right through the fabric of his t-shirt. Alfred stays stock still, looking straight ahead a the door in front of him, unable to move, paralyzed with fear because he is not sleeping and this is most definitely _not a dream_.

Another body presses right up against his back, one that's taller than him and looms over, breathing little puffs of air against his scalp. He struggles to move forward but is kept back.

"Don't," it murmurs sweetly. "It's so much better when we're alone."

As if to accentuate this point, another hand comes up and spreads itself against the expanse of exposed collarbone. He feels the bridge of a nose trail down the side of his face, until the very point of a chin rest against his shoulder. It's at this moment, when the noise outside grows to a tremendous heights, that the door bursts open with the combined efforts of Eliza working the door knob and Gilbert slamming against it with his body. All of them fall in a huge rush and freeze the same way Alfred has.

He catches Matthew's eye before it lands to the something behind him, and there is such an indescribable expression etched into his brother's now pale face that he can't help by feel the bottom of his stomach giving out because this is now most definitely real. Fingers flex harder against his skin and for a quick second, the nails dig in even more until they vanish completely and they're left with only each other. Both Feliciano and Lovino say something under their breath in Italian and it's the one thing that snaps them all out of staring at the empty space behind Alfred and look directly at the blonde himself.

Alfred gulps quite audibly, he's shaking, and he barely manages to say, "You saw it then?" before collapsing forward.

**xxx**

-Homgsdjkfnwuefoksndknljkna! You guys~! So many reviews! You have no idea how much I love every single one of you. -heartsheartshearts-

-Srsly, I would offer up my first born, but there are a lot of you, and that would be messy. I did make cinammon rolls this morning though, if anyone's interested.

-I know fillerish chapter is a bit fillerish, it wasn't supposed to be, but somehow it became setup for what happens next. Idk...

-Anyway! I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the replies. We've been cleaning out the entire house all week so it'll be easier on mai momma after her surgery, so I can't be on-line for very long. We're still not done, peeps, I cannot believe that, it's not even that big of a house...

-Much love to you all, stay shiny, and until next times lovelies, bai bai~.

**xxx**

Anonymous Reviews (because i still give nonnies love):

Aurelene: Thanks for reviewing and I'm super stoked that you've kept with it. Just saying now, that I don't ever discontinue fics. I'll lag on some, like a lot of the time, but I always finish what I start. Y'know, eventually. ^-^

V8K: Thank you for still reading. -thumbs up- Actually, no, followers from before my improptu hiatus get hug attacks. -hug attack-

Black Rose: Did you keep reading after the first chapter? I hope you did, and I hope you liked it. And thank you for pointing out mistakes, I try to get them all, but I'm horribly lazy at reviewing my own stuff. OTL

Apples: And hopefully I'll keep updating! -fingers/toes/arms/legs/eyes/lips crossed-

Hyperkaoru: Homg, okay, so I tend to write the majority of this in the early morning hours 'cause it's the only time I have to myself, and yes I do believe it's scary because I so always freak myself out. Especially when my cat brushes up against me under the table. DX Reason for that short story? I don't have one, just fun to share and it was sort of relevant. Anyway, thanks for not only reviewing this fic, but some of my other stuff, much love for that too. ^-^


	6. Chapter 6

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter 6  
><strong>xxx<strong>

Alfred begins to regain consciousness while being held securely in a pair of arms wrapped around his torso, his head resting in the lap of someone warm and solid. It's the cause for the beginning of what could be an absolute colossal freak-out, only natural considering everything that has happened to him thus far in his own humble abode. He starts to struggle, his upper body arches away from the hold on him and his legs start to flail outwards and kick at the air.

"Alfred," he hears his brother call to him. "Alfred! It's me!"

The fight in him starts to die down and a well-deserved calm begins to overcome him with Matthew's consistent reassurances. Little by little, his heart beat stabilizes and when he is no longer heaving in gulps of air due to an impromptu adrenaline rush, his eyes slowly open to a blurry view of his brother's head hovering over him.

"What happened?" he immediately asks.

"You passed out," Matthew answers. "And then we decided that it'd be better to bring you here."

Here, happens to be Feliciano and Lovino's home, the small two bedroom house Alfred has taken refuge in before. Even without his glasses he's able to discern the fact that he's in the living room once he focuses, the thick splatter of neon colored silly string crusted onto the ceiling even as fuzzy as they are call his attention almost instantly. With Matthew's help, Alfred sits up on the worn carpet and gropes around for his glasses. They're put into his hands by the other blonde, and after puting them back on, Alfred blinks around to really take in his surroundings.

They are familiar, the overstuffed yellow armchairs crowding around the television in the corner and the pair of wall lamps being the only decor besides the single frame with a picture of the brothers and their grandfathers plastered on the white walls. The same red, gold, and navy blue woven rug is thrown under the small four chair dining table kept to the side and there's some chattering going on beyond the single door frame leading into the small kitchen, as well as the heady scent of tomato sauce and garlic, and both bedroom and bathroom doors are left open thanks to a bad habit cultivated by Gilbert. Still, recognizable as it may be, Alfred is pretty certain that this isn't where he originally fainted.

"What happened?" he repeats.

Matthew rearranges himself to where he puts his knees against his chest and wraps his arms around them, giving his brother a thoughtful expression before looking wary and uncertain. He does eventually speak though, and when he does, he asks, "What's been going on? Al, you have to tell me everything because what happened today is definitely not just some freak out from too much scary shit."

Alfred remains silent for some times, wrought with the inner-confliction of keeping quiet on the ordeal in hopes of having it remain separate from his waking life and of the cold realization that none of it really matters now that it seems the lines between his dreams and reality have blurred. He buries his head into his hands, sighs heavily, and despite the muffled state of his words, Matthew is able to hear Alfred as he says, "It's been... a week? When did we play the first time?"

Matthew doesn't answer and it prompts Alfred to stop hiding his face and positions himself the same as his brother, looking like a mirror image save for the different clothing and slight difference in hair style.

"When you guys left and I fell asleep..." Alfred trails off and frowns. "No. No, there was... there was something else. In the mirror, in the bathroom, when I went in there after I had enough of whatever the hell the board was doing, I saw someone in the mirror. Well actually, I don't even know what I saw 'cause honestly, I didn't even look for very long..."

He trails off again, this time catching Matthew's eye and asks, "You saw him though, huh?" And as Matthew gives him a nod in answer, he goes on to ask, "What was it?"

"Uh..." Matthew begins, though unsure how to continue. "Well, it was a guy, but like... weird looking. Like really white face, and even his hair, and his eyes, Al... They were like glowing or something, I don't know, but all I really remember was a lot of purple so I didn't notice claws or anything."

"Claws?"

"Oh... Well, that's what Feliks said he saw. There was an arm holding you around your waist, I guess, and Feliks said there were claws digging into you or something so we checked under your shirt and yeah, there some marks there. But they could've been pointy fingernails or something they couldn't've necessarily been claws."

Alfred scrambles to lift up his shirt and sure enough, there right above the waist band of his jeans where he had felt his normally nighttime visitor dig into his hip are five evenly shaped indents in his flesh, pink around a small dollop of blood that has congealed beneath the skin where it almost broke. Before he can even so much as make a sound, Matthew has his hands on top of his and forces Alfred to push his shirt back down, and yet even after doing so, he keeps his hands in place.

"Al, what is it?" he asks. "Because even though it's not normal to begin with, the way it looked at us when we finally got through the door it looked angry and just, I dunno, really pissed off."

"If I'm honest, Mattie," Alfred begins. "I don't really know. I don't know what it is, only that it used to happen at night when I was asleep, and then it changed to whenever I was asleep, but that was the first time I've felt if happen when I was awake." Alfred pauses in his speech to shake his hands away from Matthew's hold and clutch at his stomach as if he's about to be sick. "The first night, all that happened to me was that I felt like something ontop of me while I was asleep and I couldn't breathe, but that was it. But after that... it changed."

"Changed to what?" Matthew presses. "Alfred, you have to tell me everything, I can't figure out how to get rid of it if I dont know everything-"

"I already tried everything, Mattie! I tried every fucking thing I remember Arthur teaching us when we were little, and none of it fucking worked!" His words are hushed, conscious of the other people inside the home only a room away but border on hysterical all the same. "It still touches me, it still jerks me, sucks me, fingers me, it's done everything except fuck me and I don't know what it's waiting for to go that far but goddammit I just want it to stop!"

His breathing is labored and his eyes are squeezed shut, and even though Matthew's thrown into a bit of a shock from he's heard and completely comprehends everything he's just been told. Yet all the same, he can't help the small question of "What?" slip out from him.

"I already told you everything, I'm not doing it again."

Matthew's mouth runs dry, he wets his lips and tries to gulp, tries to do something to shake off the truly upsetting feeling rising inside of him. Nothing helps though, whenever his gaze falls on Alfred curling in on himself and looking almost ready to start his shaking again from before and it progresses even more. Matthew shoots his hands out again, clenching around Alfred's wrists and wrenches them away from the self-given hold around him, forcing him to make eye contact with his brother.

"The stuff we were taught to protect ourselves only works when you believe it, Al," Matthew reminds his twin. "Arthur told us that over and over again, and even if we did, I don't think it would help here. This... this isn't something I know about, but Arthur has to have something in the basement and I'm gonna find it."

Alfred looks at him, disbelieving. "You're going to sneak into the basement and mess with Arthur's ghost shit?"

"If there's anywhere were we can find some info that we need it'll be there."

"Yeah, there's something else we can use to find all the info we could ever need, Mattie, and it's called the Internet."

"And it's worked wonders for you so far," Matthew deadpans.

"Shut up, dick." Alfred almost breaks out in a smile and pushes his brother away. "I found some stuff, but there wasn't anything on how to get rid of it. Just wasn't looking in the right places, I'm guessing."

"Right, we'll go with that." The mood lightened in that moment, but it only takes Matthew's insistence in keeping with the subject that brings it back to a serious level. "What did you find?"

Alfred shrugs half-heartedly. "The closest I have to it is that it's something like an incubus or something. It's kinda hard to Google search just that 'cause all I keep getting stuff about the band, but I'm pretty sure that's what it is. The people on Yahoo!Answers weren't any help, I kept getting trolls."

Matthew blows away some hair from his face and leans back on his hands. "That'll help me out some... Al, does it really- I mean... really? It.. does that stuff to you?"

Alfred quickly looks away and nods once. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Okay, um..." Matthew isnt sure how to respond. He isn't sure how to get across just how serious he is about helping his brother in getting rid of this demon that has been haunting him far more seriously than he had imagined. "It's getting dark, so I'll stay for the night. In the morning, I'll go home while Arthur's at work and look for something, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna find something, I should with all the junk he has in there."

Matthew looks a lot more serious than he has before during the conversation as he says, "We're gonna get rid of it, Alfred. I promise."

Alfred nods and for a few moments he looks somber, but for the sake of brightening the atmosphere, he looks about the room dramatically and proceeds to ask his twin, "So I get why we left the apartment, but I was thrown on the floor why?"

Matthew looks a bit sheepish, and he isn't quite able to meet Alfred's eye when he responds with, "Because when you're _out_ out, you're a lot heavier and we couldn't carry you anymore."

A small snort escapes him. "Dicks, all of you."

"You wouldn't be so heavy if you quit the freak work outs. I don't know how many times I told you that muscle weighs more than fat."

"Hey, are you guys okay?"

There's a new voice that calls the attention of both twins, both turning their heads simultaneously in the direction of the kitchen and see that Feliciano has entered the room, genuinely concerned for their well-being.

"I heard Alfred talking and left the cooking to Lovino to come see if he was up or if I was just hearing things again," he says. "We're making dinner, Alfred, lasagna and chicken parmesan with the garlic bread that you like."

Alfred throws him a small smile and says, "That sounds pretty awesome, Feli, thanks."

Feliciano instantly beams at the positive response, though just as quick as it appears, his mouth forms a small little _o_ shape, as though remembering something quite important. "Matthew, your phone was ringing awhile ago in Feliks' bag. We weren't able to answer it though because Feliks kept saying that it was his that was going off and was too busy looking for it."

"That's okay," Matthew says while standing up. "I'll just call back and let whoever it was know that it was a family emergency and I'm sorry I missed their call, stuff like that."

"I'm pretty sure your boss is in the kitchen, Mattie," says Alfred. "You don't need to call whoever back right away."

"Sometimes it's good to do the right thing."

"Not if it makes you too good for your own good."

Matthew makes no reply other than a simple eye roll before leaving the room completely. Almost instantly, Feliciano takes Matthew's spot across Alfred the moment the other blonde takes his exit, and though he seems to be back to his normal self, Alfred can't help the feeling that the subject he has just finished discussing with Matthew is about to be brought back up all over again. He has to sigh internally, because really, isn't it possible to just get the story out all at once? Is it really a necessity to repeat the same explanation again and again?

Before he's able to voice this however, Feliciano beats him to breaking the silence between them, though not by speaking. He reaches into the inside of his overshirt and from an inside pocket, he brings out a piece of paper smaller than an index card, a little yellow and worn at the edges.

"I want to give you something," he says and holds it out for Alfred to take. "My grandpa gave one of these to both Lovino and me when we were only little and it's always helped me whenever I get scared or if I feel like there's something wrong going on, I would read it and it would go away. I still use it a lot, but I have it all memorized now and I know it'll help if you ever end up somewhere alone. Not that we'll ever leave you alone, not now anyway."

Alfred carefully takes it from Feliciano and brings it closer to himself for inspection. The paper is soft beneath his fingers, definitely a sign of it's age of how it's been well-used. There's a picture on one side, of a fair-haired angel dressed in armor and holding a scale in one hand and a sword in the other, one foot is planted squarely on the head of a horned demon with wings lying on its belly and flames emerging from a groove in the ground. He turns it over to see the inscription on the back, and reads out, "Saint Michael the Archangel."

He stares at it for a rather long time, skimming over the words, but not really reading them, only to hold it back out for Feliciano to retrieve. "I can't take this Feli, it's yours."

"No, no, I really do want you to have it." Feliciano pushes it back towards Alfred. "Alfred... I was really scared today, but for the first time it wasnt for me, it was for you. And I want you to be safe and I want to know you'll be safe."

In Alfred's opinion, itll take a lot more than some fancy words printed on an old card that had been given to a little boy so many years ago, but he keeps it to himself. Instead, he makes a show of putting the card into the front pocket of his jeans while smiling at the other male and thanking him in a sincere manner. It may not give him any peace of mind, but if it'll put the Feliciano at ease, then why not?

Feliciano smiles again and stands, this time offering a helping hand to the blonde remaining on the floor. "Come on! Dinner's gonna be ready soon and you have to be hungry! I'm starving!"

Alfred takes the offered hand and uses the leverage to quickly hoist himself up to his feet. He's a tad unbalanced from the lack of leg use, but walks through it until it rights itself on it's own. The second he enters the kitchen, he's greeted with the sights of Matthew texting on his phone while talking to Feliks as Eliza pulls down plates and glasses from hanging cupboards and Loving at the stove muttering and batting at Gilbert's hands with a wooden spatula each time he uses the excuse of hugging around his waist as an excuse to pick at the lasagna fresh from the oven. Feliks notices Alfred first, and he brings it to the light of everyone's attention by running to the blonde and giving him a large bearlike hug.

"My glob, Alfred, you whore!" he cries. "You can't do that again, I won't let you!"

"I'll try my best not to," he laughs. He pulls away from Feliks grand show of affection and catches Eliza's eye in the process. He immediately knows he's about to go through an entire enquiry if he allows her to start a conversation with him and takes it upon himself to direct the attention elsewhere. "Feli promised me some food, guys, where's it at?"

It works completely, whether because everyone else is famished from the days events or because of their concern for Alfred's health, whichever it is doesnt seem to matter. He helps Eliza set the table, just to get the "I'm okay now, we'll figure it out, it's fine, don't be sorry" part of the night to end sooner and even bring in the extra chairs with Gilbert from the garage. The extra exertion does wear him out some, but sitting at the table with a home cooked meal and Matthew at his side again has him put all of that from his mind. The whole affair is comfortable and enjoyable, and it's almost as if it's being held under normal circumstances. The only off setting aspect is when Gilbert suggests a Star Wars marathon and Feliks wrinkles his nose as he normally does but accepts to stay all the same.

After clearing away the table and the dishes are done, Gilbert retrieves his trilogy box set and they all settle into the living room. Feliks claims one of the arm chairs and the only couple in the room claim the other. Feliciano sits close to Feliks' arm chair, sitting next to it on the carpet. Alfred splays himself on the floor, lying on his stomach and propped on his elbows resting on top of an offered pillow, Matthew and Eliza flanking him on either side. When everyone is comfortable enough, the play button is hit and the marathon begins.

Feliks nods off first, not even half way through _A New Hope_ when he lets out a light snore much to the amusement of everyone else. Feliciano is next, at the beginning of _Empire_, with him slumped against the chair and making soft noises in his sleep. When _Jedi_ begins, that's when they all begin to nod off to sleep. Alfred, Lovino, Eliza, Gilbert, and finally Matthew, who has only held out for so long out of a self-promise to look after his brother for as long as possible.

When the movie ends and the credits have all rolled and the disc finally loops back to the main menu, it's after three in the morning, and if any of them had bothered to fight off the sleep they succumbed to, they would feel the drop of temperature and an oppresive air breach their comfortable situation. Alfred begins to shift in his sleep, his body so accustomed to being stirred at the very smallest of any discomforts as of late, and eventually he begins to grope blindly for something to cover himself only to smack his hand against Matthew's face.

"Alfred, what the hell?" he grunts out and shifts away.

"Yeah, sorry," is his reply and tries to curl into himself for warmth. Only, he isn't able to move his legs. Alfred's eyes snap open, he tries again and when he can't move, he swallows thickly and reaches out for Matthew again. "Matthew. Matthew!"

Matthew scrunches his eyes harshly together, unable to open them so quickly and quite frankly, unwilling to do so in the early hours. "What?"

"I think something's wrong."

And that's all he's able to say as large hand imprints wrap around his ankles and drag him off at a high speed, all while he claws at the carpet to keep from flying off any faster and screaming out Matthew's name, right through the left open bathroom door and is slammed shut right after his entrance.

The lights start to flicker, on and off and on and off and on and off, in such a rapid succession that it distorts the coloring of the tile and makes everything a sickly yellow. Alfred scrambles against the floor, the cold of it seeping through he thin fabric of his shirt, trying to get onto his knees to make his escape. All the while, the commotion outside reaches a noise level of epic proportions. Just as he hears Matthew banging on the bathroom door, waking the others with shouts of how the door knob is scorching hot and how even the hinges are glowing red, Alfred is lifted up and flipped over onto his back.

His eyes are roaming in their sockets, darting every which way in search of his attacker and only once is he given any kind of visual of his form in between the brief moments of light. He greeted with the sight of a mop of grey hair hanging over a pair of bright purple colored eyes, glowing continuously even in the dark. Alfred's so transfixed by the sight of them that he fails to recognize how close they approach him, paralyzed into remaining so stock still that he doesn't even realize that his scarf been pulled off from him and tossed to the side. He only begins to move when his shirt is lifted up from its hem, and instead of being pushed upwards as per usual, something digs into the top of his shirt and slashes downwards. The sounds of ripping fabric fill the small space as the front of his shirt is shredded into oblivion.

Alfred grabs at whatever strips he catches first, tries to put them back hastily in a state of panic and only gives up when something sharp scrapes against the exposed skin of his hip and pulls down at the waistband of his jeans. He pulls at them, determined to keep them on and kicks his legs in hopes of hitting the demon successfully.

There's more banging on the bathroom door, as if someone is throwing their body against the wood and attempting to crack it open with sheer body weight. It's soon joined by another, and Alfred can hear Feliks shout at someone to put more weight into it while Feliciano starts crying out for someone help, louder than all of the other voices combined. It's most likely because of the sudden sound of Feliciano's voice that has Alfred reach for his pocket on instinct and begins to dig. This bit of distraction is enough to give the demon time to pop the button off and pull the zipper down without any nay say from the blonde.

Alfred pulls out the card seamlessly just as his pants are being shimmied down to his thighs. He holds it up in front of him, licks his lips and finds his voice. It's shaky and almost inaudible, but to the best of his abilities in the changing light he reads, "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil..."

The tug on his jeans stop, and as Alfred continues on with reading even the lights cease their flickering. When he reaches the end, everything is normal, save for the commotion going on outside by those who have no idea on what is taking place in the bathroom. Alfred lets his arms fall to the side, and he lets out a breathless laugh as he allows his head to fall back. He tilts his face to the side and brings the card back up, trying to look at it differently than he had before, unable to believe anything that had just happened.

He's about to let out a small relieved sigh when it appears. A too pale hand with skin that looks to be made over leather stretched too tight slides itself against his wrist and five very large fingers wrap around as the nails on each one grow outward into a very impressive sized claw. There's a sudden wait in his lap, but he's too breathless, his chest feels too constricted to even turn his head for a view. He feels the large frame of a body loom over him, leaving the entire upper half of his body to be covered in shadow. It swoops down on him, Alfred can feel cold skin brush against his own and a steady series of breaths puffing against the hollow of his ear.

"Pretty words only work when you believe them," it says sweetly. "Your brother told you that, yes?"

Alfred feels a shudder rack through his body, and he breathes in a sharp gasp at the feel of a flat tongue, rougher in texture than he remembers but just as wet press against the shell of his ear and give a long, languid swipe upwards. Tears well up in his eyes and he feels he long ridge of a nose press into his hair and inhale deeply.

A rather loud cry of "Holy fuck, Liz!" happens outside the door and there's a incredibly huge clang of metal hitting metal. The entire door knob is ripped off, leaving a gaping hole splintered with wood and is kicked open, revealing Eliza bent forward with a cast-iron skillet, the weight of it holding her down some but not enough to deter her from charging into the bathroom. The weight on top of Alfred vanishes just as the pan flies right above him and breaks through the plexiglass of the shower, sending a crescendo of clear pieces shattering to the tiled flooring.

"That's not even real glass!" Gilbert shouts. "Holy. Fuck. Liz!"

Matthew rushes in, pushing past her and takes a hold of Alfred from his armpits and drags him out. Eliza follows and soon all of them are congregating in the living room once more, Alfred stock still on the carpet with Matthew next to him.

"He has to get the fuck out."

Their heads snap towards Lovino, standing off to the side and holding himself, pale and shaking, the fear practically radiating off from him in thick pulses. His fists clench and in a fierce tone says, "I said he has to get the fuck out. What? You didn't hear me?"

"You're gonna kick my brother out after all that?" Matthew demands and rises from his sitting position. "What the hell?"

"He brought a fucking devil into my house!" Lovino shouts. "Why the hell wouldn't I want him out?"

"Because he was just attacked, you selfish prick!"

"He's just afraid!" Gilbert joins in and takes a stand next to Lovino. "Calm the fuck down!"

"You want me to calm the fuck down when he's trying to throw my brother out!"

"Yelling at him isn't going to change his mind about it!"

"Like you're so one to talk about yelling!" shouts Feliks. "Why do you totally get to start in on fighting?"

"Feliks, you're exasperating things!" Eliza cries.

"I don't know what that means!"

"It means, they're both assholes for wanting to throw Alfred out!"

"What the fuck? I just want you to lay off Lovino, I don't want to throw him out!"

"I do! Get him out! It's my house, I want him and whatever fucking demon bullshit he has with him outta here!"

"But it's my house too!" Feliciano cries suddenly. "And I want Alfred to stay!"

The volume of Feliciano's words are loud enough to silence them all. One by one, they turn their eyes towards him and bear witness to a welling of tears at the corners of his eyes threatening to spill over and all around generally looking miserable, the product of their fighting.

"We're supposed to be helping Alfred," he says and rubs at his eyes. "Not trying to throw him out or start fighting with each other. Lovino, you told me that it was okay to bring him here after we saw it the first time."

"That's when I thought it was only in his apartment," his brother replies. "I didn't know the damn thing could travel with him."

That's the statement that throws them all into silence. The idea that whatever possessed the blonde's apartment could move about with him is something they did not take into account of because it has not been an issue before now. Though Feliciano mutters a reminder to anyone who is listening to him again on how they promised to help him. No one responds to him, preferring to lose themselves in their thoughts and contemplate whether or not they bit off more than they could chew. All the same, their conclusions reach the same end. Alfred is their friend, its their help he needs, and it's their help they will give.

Eliza's the first to break the quiet spell with asking, "So what did we do wrong?"

"I don't think we did anything wrong," Matthew answers. "I don't think it really matters, I think it's gotten to the point where... we just have to be on our guard."

"So what?" Feliks cuts in. "We just take shifts or whatever to play lookout for the rest of the night?"

Mathew shrugs. "Anyone have any better ideas?"

There's a silent agreement between them on taking Feliks' half-hearted attempt of sarcasm as their temporary solution, obvious for the fact that it is their last resort, they have no other option at the moment. Matthew lets them all know that he'll take first watch, and after coaxing from Gilbert, he and Lovino enter one bedroom. Feliciano, Eliza, and Feliks pile into the other, while Matthew sits in the living room with Alfred. They had wanted to move the blonde into Feliciano's bedroom originally, but his refusal to even so much as budge makes it impossible.

He's breathing evenly, there's no physical marks marring his skin as far as any of them can tell, and he blinks regularly, though never does his eyes move from a particular spot on the ceiling. Alfred doesn't speak when something is asked of him, he either shakes his head in the negative or nods in the positive in lieu of giving a verbal response. Feliciano provides Matthew with a replacement shirt, and some blankets and even more pillows from seemingly out of nowhere before disappearing into his bedroom.

"Al," Matthew calls out to him softly. "Wanna put a shirt on?"

It takes awhile, but Alfred slowly sits himself up, the remains of his own t-shirt fall from his body like water and holds his hand out for the borrowed piece of clothing. Matthew hands it over, and as Alfred dresses himself, Matthew sets out a few blankets as a makeshift bed.

"Did you want to go back to sleep?" Matthew asks uncertainly. He's not at all surprised to see his brother give him the negative response and so goes on to prop their given pillows against the wall to make for optimal comfort in their sitting positions. "That's okay, too. Um... we'll just stay right here then, yeah? We can watch some TV, or not if you don't want, it's all fine. We'll stay here for the night, and then... figure out what to do _do _in the morning_. _We'll find something tomorrow, we have a better idea of what's going on. And we can even use Google, we'll check out everything, we're gonna get rid of it... Okay?"

Alfred rearranges the shirt and takes his place on the floor next to Matthew. He pulls his knees upwards towards his chest and lets his head fall back to tilt against the wall.

"...Okay."

**xxx**

-You guuuuys! I've never broken 100 reviews so soon! I can't hold all these happy feels I'm all asdfghjkl;!

-But yeah, looks like this fic is actually going to be longer than I thought. If I had stuck with what I was originally going to write, we'd only have two or three chapters to go, but now... I dunno. There's like, a lot of stuff to get through now and I don't know where it came from. :D

-And before I go today I wanted to ask for opinions, but I was thinking of making soundtracks for my fics. Because since the only time I leave the house atm is for groceries or to go to work and I'm wearing earbuds the whole time anyway, I have some time to kill between working on three or four fics at once.

-So yeah, later then, lovelies. Stay shiny and keep beautiful, I'll see y'all laters.

**xxx**

Anonymous Reviews:

Hyperkaoru: HOMG! HO. MAI. GLOB. You madame, are amazing and I absolutely adore you, thank you so much for the lovely fanart. I've been meaning to comment on them, but first I couldn't remember my account and then I lost Internet for the week and I still cant remember my account, but I will and I will squee over each one and have I mentioned how amazing you are? Thankyouthankyouthankyouthan kyouthankyouthankyou~! XD

Guest 1: A keyboard smash, imo, is the greatest compliment in the world.^-^ Even though it's the first review you've given me and I'm really happy to hear you like my work. :D Just knowing that someone is reading is enough to give me a bit of a confidence boost. ^-^

Guest 2: Lol, y'know, I don't even know how Athur became such a major point in all of this because he wasn't supposed to originally. DX Anyway, I don't know if I made this any scarier than it has been, but I do hope that you enjoyed this chapter all the same. And yup! Your review did motivate me to get an update out and make it the best I could. ^-^

RainbowJapan: Yay! Here's to even more updates from me! :D

NightSongstress: Lol, they still don't have a game plan. DX Other than stick together, don't be stupid like all the other people in horror movies and split up. Srsly though, why split up? I've never got that... Thanks a ton for reviewing and all the nice compliments. They all make me :D.

Lecat: Wasn't able to update as soon as I would've liked, but at least I still am. ^-^; Anyway, we'll get everyone's description of Ivan in the next chapter, they actually _do_ stuff in the next chapter, haha~. But yeah, super stoked that you're loving the fic like you don't even know. (And idk if you remember the request fic I owe you, but I still have it half finished and I do plan on finishing it, it's just kinda slow going on picking everything up again with where I left off. ;A;)


	7. Chapter 7

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter 7  
><strong>xxx<strong>

The ride home for Matthew is a bit nerve-wrecking. It's that sort of calm-before-the-storm brand of anxiety coursing through his body, causing his palms to sweat and his mouth to run dry from the anticipation of enacting his plan of action in gathering information. Though appearing to be a trivial matter, as siblings often take from one another in secrecy many times throughout the course of their lives, it's been agreed on both twin's parts to stay away from Arthur's sanctioned space since that one day many years ago, when despite their reluctance to regard Arthur's hobbies with anything other than the rational even at such a young age, they had intruded upon it and Alfred had suffered such a fright that neither one of them truly spoke of why exactly even to this day, but came to the decision to let Arthur's things alone just the same.

And now, Matthew is going back into the basement, with the full knowledge of there being paranormal entities that have the power to do such damage as he has witnessed just hours earlier, and this time alone.

"You look like you're gonna be sick."

Matthew's attention snaps sharply from his hands folded in his lap to the left, looking right at Gilbert behind the wheel, staring straight ahead as he drives. Matthew does his best to appear indifferent, not wanting to let him on to any of the thoughts plaguing his mind.

"Haven't gone back to bed yet," he lies. "You'd look bad too if you did the same."

Gilbert scoffs. "Sorry, kid, there's just no way I could ever look bad."

Matthew remains quiet, eyes leveled at the other's head and refrains from looking away for even an instant. Gilbert notices, says nothing for some time but eventually the constant staring begins to grate on him.

"What?" he snaps.

"Nothing," Matthew responds. "Just wondering what Lovino was on when he decided to start sleeping with you."

This brings out a lopsided grin, a poke of white teeth and smug eyes. "The only thing he needed to be on were five meters made of pure awesome to see what he was missing."

Matthew's head thumps back on his seat and he squeezes his eyes shut. "Okay, gross, and yeah, still wondering."

The remainder of the drive progresses much the same as before, in relative silence only broken by a casual reminder in direction by Matthew when Gilbert appears a bit too uncertain in his navigation. In little to no time at all, Gilbert is pulling into the driveway of one of the older residences; a two-level home covered in yellow vinyl paneling and surrounded by self-planted flora. It's the place he's called home for as long as he's known it to be, and yet coming back to it after only being away for a day, and with the intentions he has, he feels as thought that's been a lifetime ago.

Matthew briefly takes a moment to wonder if Feliks' dramatics could be contagious. It's what it certainly seems.

"Wait for you here then?" Gilbert asks while shutting off the engine.

Matthew rolls his eyes and opens his door to exit the vehicle. While stepping out, he does his best to use a borderline sarcastic tone as he says, "No, Gil, don't be stupid. I want you to wait for me back at the house, I'm going to be here for hours."

"Damn, you're a snarky bitch when you don't get any sleep."

The blonde doesn't bother to respond with anything other than a flash of his finger before slamming the door shut.

The entire block is quiet, the suburban setting combined with the time of day, a period in which many of the inhabitants are currently working or otherwise occupied, keeping the streets empty and leaving Matthew's footsteps to echo just a bit against the brick walkway leading to the front entrance. He feels a bit paranoid, even bothers to look around after jogging up the front steps and begins to dig for his set of keys, and then almost immediately berates himself for being so idiotic. This is his home, he remembers, he shouldn't be made to feel as though he cannot be safe here.

The door swings open, revealing a decorated entryway, dimly lit by the lack of any nearby windows and unlit lamps. Matthew steps in, closes the door behind him and begins to walk forward, taking the familiar route to the kitchen. The floorboards creak under his steps, groaning in protest from the pressure, and it's something that causes Matthew's pulse to quicken. Never before has he heard the noises created by the house so loudly, so clear. It's a little disconcerting to be honest, and it has him listen out for anything stirring that is not himself.

As he enters the kitchen, he pauses at the doorway, taking in the surroundings; the mopped floor and scrubbed counters, dishes tucked away into the clean line of cupboards, the stainless stove and matching fridge looking almost new and barely touched, and all of this is lit by the sunlight streaming through the large window behind their small table. He takes it in, realizing how lonely this house can seem when empty of any of it's residences and ponders over whether it's always been like this or is just something recent that he now notices.

He hears a groan of wood somewhere behind him and doesn't bother to refrain from looking over his shoulder. Nothing is there, save for the few floating bits of dust barely visible. Matthew's tongue darts out from between his lips, wets them quickly and faces forward once more. He takes a step into the room and sharply turns to the right, now standing directly in front of the door leading down into the basement. Matthew grasps at the knob, the gold tarnish dull and chipped, turns it carefully and pushes it open.

The moment he stands on the landing of the staircase leading below the ground level, he's hit with a sudden memory of himself positioned the exact same way with Alfred by his side, ten years old and pumped full of adrenaline by the meer thought of trespassing into the room below before acting on it and ready to trample down the wooden stairway. Matthew swears he can see the grainy images of two blonde little boys descending into the dark flicker in his mind, hear their crashing feet against the wood, making too much noise and not worried in the slightest as their faded giggles are filled with the promise of adventure in forgoing the set boundary.

_"You think we should? I mean, Arthur really doesn't want us to be down here," he had said. "He said we're not ready or something like that."_

_"He just said that to say it," Alfred responded. "He ain't ever gonna bring us down here, so we gotta do it ourselves. C'mon, maybe we'll find a dirty magazine or something to get back at him with."_

He shakes his head, freeing himself for the bombardment of memories past and begins his own present descent into the basement, the wood nearly shaking under his weight this time around as his eyes adjust to the lack of light. Matthew walks down slowly, eyes scanning through the dark for the switch that does not appear until his feet hit the cement flooring. The light switches on with a snap and a buzz from the lightbulb hanging above signals out in audible waves as Matthew steps forward and gives the room a good look around.

Much is the same as he remembers from before, the red bricked walls contrast with the gray of the paved flooring, the pipes and wooden beams supporting the home above are still showing, uncovered completely as they run across the ceiling, leading to the small rectangle of a window on the opposite side, clouded with dirt and covered in grime. There are shelves of books, cases filled, some left open and some kept behind glass in a double paneled cabinet. There are rows of jars, bottles, and jugs filled with indescribable items he knows he has no business in snooping into and leaves them. There is something new however, something he cannot recall seeing before in his brief time exploring the area.

In the very middle of the room drawn in chalk, is an unrecognizable design. An even circle within an even larger one, drawn on more thick and overlapped, unknown squiggles and symbols litter the middle ring and there's only a few scratches of lines in the very center. Matthew edges around it as he progresses further, preferring to keep his distance while on his search.

He makes for the openly displayed books, scanning their titles and only picking at those that seem to be of any relevance. There appears to be only one that holds his interest, thick and leather bound, the main subject being on summoning. While it's not _exactly_ what they should be doing, there could be a stow away of information on reversing the effects. He tucks it under his arm and continues on to the next series of books kept in the actual cases, scanning the same as before, muttering under his breath as he reads titles aloud and asks questions to nobody as to how they may be of some use.

Matthew finds little else, and if it weren't for how promising the remaining books kept behind glass appear, he would leave with what he already has and call it a day. Being that they are though, he opens the glass cabinet, spreading the door wide and instantly realizes that the majority of these either have no title present or it is too faint to even make out in the light.

With a bit of a sigh, Matthew looks for a space to place the book he already has in possession. He finds one at the bottom of the cabinet, a thinner shelf than the other, just the right size. With it safely kept away from being mixed with the others, Matthew reaches for the first book shelved and begins to skim.

The time goes by quickly, three times already he's had to answer a text message from Gilbert, asking for more time, he's almost ready to come back out, there's still a few more to sort through...

"He can come help me if he's getting so damn impatient," he mutters to no one and rubs his eyes with one hand, bumping against his glasses.

He goes back to work, shortening the skims to a light reading of a page from somewhere in the middle of whichever book he's picked up before putting it back down and moving on to the next. Which so happens to be a very thin book, black in color though spotted with patches of dark brown and covered in a tough sort of binding that is also wrinkled. It has an odd texture below Matthew's fingers, nearly unpleasant, but he opens up to the middle of the pages carefully (they seem to be even more brittle than the others) and runs his eyes over the lines. The further along he reads, the wider his eyes become and he breaks out into a grin.

"This is it," he whispers. "This is the closest one ever."

He shuts the book gently and hurries to collect the other stashed below, falls to his knees and reaches into the small space for retrieval. As he does, his knuckles brush against something rough, bringing it up just enough to make a noise when falling back against the shelf. Curious, Matthew pulls the book out and sets it aside with the other before reaching for the mystery item. What he pulls out is a rather dusty, thin board, made of light wood and despite the thickness, is sturdy on it's own. He flips it over for further inspection and instantly gasps.

It's Arthur's own Ouija board, and again, Matthew is hit with a memory of Alfred and himself finding it all those years ago. Although that time, Alfred was the one who had found it, stored in a different place at the time, and had been the one to snap it in half.

_"You broke it!"_

_"I didn't mean to!"_

_"Alfred! Matthew!"_

_"He found us!"_

_"The window! We can get out from the window!"_

_"But the board! He's gonna know anyway!"_

_"Oh yeah... I'll stay and get yelled at, you go."_

_"What?"_

_"Mattie, just go!"_

Matthew's gaze goes from the board to the window, thinking back to how he once fit through it to make an escape. Alfred had taken the blame for coming into the basement and even for breaking the board (though technically he _did_ break it himself). Matthew returns to staring at the board, and thinks to himself of how that is right. Alfred broke the board, and yet here it is, in one piece without a single ridge to show of where it's been cracked in half.

He's thrown out of his musings however, startled entirely by a series of honks coming from outside that could only be Gilbert. Matthew, while ready to pack up and return to the house, decides to take his time in putting the items back in a passive-aggressive move to teach the other a bit of patience, at least until his phone vibrates.

Tempted to ignore it, Matthew picks it from his pocket and freezes after reading the screen. Gilbert informs him that his brother has pulled into the driveway, he's already home, and before even bothering to question why Arthur is home from work so early he rushes to shove everything back in the order he found it and closes the cabinet with a loud clatter. He picks both books up and runs for the stairs, skidding through the chalk outline without realizing and hits the lights while trotting up the stairs.

Back in the kitchen, Matthew races through and heads for the staircase leading upstairs. He takes two steps at a time going up, barely hearing the front door open as he hits the landing and crashes into his room, instantly going into panic, looking for an overnight bag to stuff the books in and clothes to pile on top of them. He's at his bed, stuffing the books at the bottom of a bag he's found in the closet and covering them with a few jeans and shirts, when there's a knock on his door frame, surprising him enough to cause him to jump and spin around sharply.

There stands Arthur, shorter than either twin though still standing tall, in a white collared shirt paired with a red tie and his pressed trousers, definitely just returned from his working day, arms crossed against his chest and an unvoiced question on his face.

"Hey," Matthew greets almost near shakily. He wills himself to keep his voice steady and to appear as normal as possible lest he give something away. "You're home pretty early, huh?"

"It's Saturday, Matthew," comes Arthur's reply. "I was only called in for a few hours, but more importantly, what is all this?"

He gestures to the bed, to the strewn clothes and the half-packed bag as calm as ever while Matthew's mind races. Is it really Saturday? He should have known that and yet it's completely slipped his mind, something as mundane and yet necessary as knowing which day of the week it is has slipped his mind. This entire situation may be of crucial importance, however, it should not render him incapable of recognizing the day. Or perhaps it's only natural for it to be so, he'll think it over later.

"Alfred's doing this huge construction thing," he says. "Painting and redoing the kitchen and putting up this thing that'll help block his bed from being seen by everyone. But anyway, it's a total mess and I just decided to help and stay over while it's going on to make sure everything's being taken care of, you know how it goes with him."

"Funny, I didn't think apartments were allowed to be renovated in such a way."

"Well Feliks pushed for it because it wasn't "totes chic" or whatever and you know how he gets to get his way even if it isn't his place to do it and they're both idiots so me and Gil thought we should help and you saw Gilbert outside right?"

Arthur does not respond right away, leaving Matthew to think that maybe he should have spoken slower. Being so rushed could only look suspicious after all, definitely a sign of lying...

"Er, yes," answers Arthur. "I spoke with him before coming in, charming as always."

"Yeah, he's an ass... Um..." He pulls out his phone, checks the times, and quickly shoves it back into his pocket, making sure to look anxious. "I actually forgot that I have a shift soon, so I better get going. I'll call you later though, yeah? Keep you updated?"

He throws a few more shirts into the bag and zips it up quick, slings it over his shoulder and breaks for the door, sliding past Arthur, who in turn tries to say something in return. It isn't until he's halfway down the staircase that Arthur follows him out from his bedroom, calling out from the landing.

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"Should only be a few days," he calls back and reaches the front door. "I'll call you later!"

He swings the front door open without so much as a glance back, he pushes it shut blindly and practically trots back to the car. He opens the passenger side door, slides in, and goes right for his seat belt.

"Didja get caught?" Gilbert asks and starts the engine.

Matthew shakes his head. "Almost. C'mon, let's just get back and figure out what to do next."

Not needing any further instruction, Gilbert backs out from the driveway, now occupied with Arthur's own car, and turns them back in the direction from whence they came. As they speed away, Matthew barely catches a glimpse of Arthur watching them from his bedroom window, mouth curled downward in a slight frown and brows furrowed in though, and clutches at the bag in his lap a little tighter. He forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to put the sight out of his head without feeling too guilty, and thinks only of their next step.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Feliks sits at the desk in Feliciano's bedroom while the man himself has his back up against the wall, knees brought up and balancing a sketchpad, charcoal pencil pressed against the paper with other numerous supplies placed next to him as Feliks scans the Internet. Alfred rests on the bed, eyes closed and breathing steady. He looks more at ease than he has in the hours before and it's a welcome sight to the two keeping guard.

Feliciano looks up from his book at one of the Alfred's more noisy snores, making certain that all is well before darting back down to the sketch of the blonde himself sleeping sound.

"Okay, that's it," Feliks says suddenly and pushes himself away from the computer screen. "Every troll on the Internet is a major ass-ball, hands down."

The sudden outburst has Feliciano put his book down all together and give him a curious look. "What's an ass-ball?"

"Feli, that's so not the point." Feliks chances a look back at the screen and instantly grimaces. "I so totally thought it'd be like, easier to just ask everyone what to do on just getting rid of this thing or something, and I don't know how many people I got telling me to sing 'There's Got to be a Morning After' backwards."

"Maybe you're asking it wrong?" he suggests and carefully sets aside his art supplies so that he may stand. "They could be thinking that you're talking about something else."

"Whatever, I'm just gonna call Toris like I said I was gonna and forget this on-line crap."

He vacates the seat in favor of searching for his phone, leaving Feliciano to hop right in for a better look himself. Feliks already has many tabs open, each one depicting a forum, a blog, or a personal site littered with pages of discussion and information.

"Wow, and still there wasn't anything to use?" he asks.

"I think there's some stuff," Feliks answers while digging through his bag. "But I'm just so not totally sure and I so don't wanna make myself look like a dweeb and say I found the magic cure or whatever when everyone gets back. Oh, glob, I wish they'd get back soon, I have to pee like no other and it's like, two blocks to the closest public place."

"Why not just go to the bathroom then? Why haven't you used ours?"

"Same reason why you haven't cleaned the shattered remains of your shower that Lizzie went total She-Hulk on."

"Oohh..." Feliciano throws him an apologetic smile, feeling a bit mournful over the fact that he is not able to overcome the fear that rolls around when thinking of the bathroom and all that transpired within and the inability to even step inside. He furrows his brow in thought, trying to think of a solution to the best of his abilities for both their shared predicament. "I know! We can go in together! I'll sweep up the glass and then stand in the bathtub with my back facing to you while you use the toilet!"

Feliks gives his an odd glance before returning to his phone. "Um, yeah, thanks for the offer, but don't forget we have to keep an eye on this one here."

"Oh, yeah... What if we kept the door open?"

At his words, the bedroom door rattles, calling their attention to the wood that shudders so slightly, as though a strong wind is pushing against it. A shadow passes beneath the threshold, causing them both to jump where they are and scoot closer to one another.

"You're gonna give it ideas, Feli," Feliks says hastily. "Shut up!"

"You mean, it's still in the house? I thought it went away after Eliza scared it!"

"It's wherever Alfred is, duh!" Feliks reminds him and hits the speed dial on his phone. "Why do you think they left us here to watch him? It's like, always around, or something and if that isn't freaky enough, it could be tricking us to make us think that's it not even really in here with us, but it really is!"

"Feliks, I'm starting to get scared again, stop it!"

"You don't think I've been freaked out this whole time? Seriously, Feli, my mind has not shut up since Gil and Mattie left."

Feliciano brings his hands together and starts to wring them together. "I hope they get back soon."

"Totes, all we need is for some spooky shizz to go down with no one around to help us out or something."

"_Hello?_"

The sudden intrusion of a new voice, disembodied at that, has both Feliks and Feliciano cry out in fright, shrieking loudly and rousing Alfred violently from his sleep, the blonde flailing about against the mattress and shouting out for an explanation of what is happening.

"_Feliks! Feliks! What's going on? Are you alright?_"

It takes several moments of hysteria before Feliks recognizes the voice and finally pays attention to the phone in his hand. He begins to hush the other two, lowering their panic into heavy breathing and small whimpers.

"It's Toris," he tells them. "Oh, my glob, I put it on speaker, totally accident guys, so sorry!"

"Fuckin-A, Feliks, you guys scared the crap outta me," Alfred says while Feliciano grimaces and keeps glancing at the door.

"I'm sorry, so totally sorry," Feliks goes on while fiddling with the mechanics of his phone. He put it to his ear, greeting Toris on the other line and reassuring him that despite the sounds, everyone is perfectly fine and proceeds to immerse himself in a conversation that excludes the others.

While he prattles on, Alfred flops back on the mattress and runs a hand over his face, sighing the whole time. Feeling a bit more calm himself, Feliciano lowers the hand he's had pressed against his chest at Alfred's movements and decides to move from behind the computer screen to the edge of the bed, sitting next to the blonde but not so much as to intrude in his own personal space.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Alfred slowly removes his hands from his face and tilts his head against the pillow, wearing a small smile the whole time. He fixes his glasses, having jostled them in the frenzy and rubs at the ridge indented into his skin from where they pressed as he answers. "Yeah, I'm actually pretty good. How long was I out?"

"Since Mattie and Gilbert left. Well, before because we moved you into my room to be more comfortable, but you get it."

"Since they left," he repeats while sitting up. "How long have they been gone?"

"A pretty long time, but I'm pretty sure they'll be back soon."

It goes quiet between them, and very soon the only sounds in the room are coming from Feliks who seems to be defending himself against some point made against him by what he's saying on his end of the conversation. In the sake of breaking the silence, Alfred grasps for a talking point. His eyes land on the glowing computer screen and as cooly as possible, he asks Feliciano what it was they were doing before he had awoken.

"Oh, Feliks didn't want to be doing nothing while they left us here," Feliciano explains. "So he got back on the computer for some self-research or something like that."

"Tried that too, didn't really work out for me though."

"I think the same thing happened with Feliks," he tells Alfred with a smile. "I think he looked for everything Matthew told him about but..."

He trails off, and Alfred can see the impending question that is bound to happen. So, he waits, because with Feliciano, it will be asked.

"Matthew said that ghost-demon thing would do these weird things to you at night," he begins. "Like touching you in sex-"

"Yes!" Alfred cuts in sharply. "Yeah... it would."

Feliciano's brow furrow and his mouth takes a small turn downwards. "Is that what it was going to do last night in the bathroom?"

Alfred only shrugs. "Probably. Most likely."

He desperately wants to change the subject, it's annoying enough that his brother has already gone and aired his secrets out to the rest of their friends without even consulting him over the matter first, he doesn't feel up to it to have an awkward enough conversation with Feliciano.

"D'you know where my scarf is?" he asks and puts his hand against the base of his throat for emphasis. "It's kinda cold in here."

"Not really," Feliciano disagrees. "But yeah, Gilbert grabbed it when he checked the damage to the shower earlier and gave it to me to put with the blankets and stuff you guys used last night."

He stands from the bed and reaches under the frame, wiggling for a few good moments before dragging out the entire bundle he has stashed away earlier in the day. Folded neatly on top of the extra blankets and sheets is Alfred's pink scarf, spotted immediately by the blonde himself who sweeps down and picks it up in one swift motion. He casually drapes it over his neck, and for the sake of keeping with his excuse, wraps it loosely around himself.

Though upon doing so, he finds that he does feel warmer, but a good kind of warmer. Comfortable. He hums slightly, maybe it is a bit cold in the room and he just hadn't noticed it as much before.

There's a loud jostling sound outside of the bedroom, enough to call their attention save Feliks since he is still preoccupied. A door is slammed open, hitting the wall opposite of it and they both instantly tense and then breathe a sigh of relief at Gilbert's loud voice booming through the small home, letting them all know that him and Matthew have returned.

Feliciano and Alfred hurriedly make for the door, wanting to get out to meet the others and almost ignore Feliks' request to keep the door open, he really does not want to be left alone in any room right now. Not that it really matters, he soon follows after them while still going on about the discourtesy of being forgotten.

"You'll be fine," Gilbert says to him. "It's after Alfred's skank ass, not yours!"

"Wow, Gilbert, you always know just what to say to make everything better," Alfred says as he passes him by for Matthew. "What'd you get?"

Matthew lifts up the two books in hand, still proud of how he managed the feat even with complications in the way and it shows by the grin on his face.

Alfred bites out a laugh and reaches for one even though Matthew holds them both out of his reach. "You lucky dick, you actually did it."

"What? Didja think I'd chicken out or something?" he asks his twin.

"Actually, yeah."

"Thanks."

"Any time."

"Oh my glob!" Feliks suddenly shouts. "There is like, so no door there, Gilbert, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Both Matthew and Alfred snap their heads in the direction of the bathroom. They're greeted with a view of Feliks' looking very put out next to Feliciano who has his legs and arms spread wide in a blocking stance in front of the broken door and the noise of what could only be a zipper being forced down.

"I just need to take a piss!" Gilbert shouts back. "Keep your skirt on, it's fine!"

"Besides, I'm guarding the door!" Feliciano adds happily.

Through their antics, Matthew calls out softly to his brother with, "Hey, Al. These are our friends."

"You don't know how long I've waited for you to use that tone and not have it be about me," Alfred replies. "This is a moment for us."

Feliks visibly rolls his eyes and turns away from them to approach the twins.

"Okay," he begins. "So I'll just like, tell them when they stop being stupid, but I was talking to Toris about everything and besides telling me that we sooo didn't know what we were doing or whatever, he said that he knows a way we can find everything out straight forward like."

"That'd actually be pretty good," Matthew says and waves the small black book. "I've skimmed through most of this and it tells a lot on what the thing is, but not the why."

"What is then?" Alfred asks. "Was I right?"

"Technically, yes." Matthew tucks the other book under his arm and uses both hands to open the smaller one. "This one talks a lot about it being something that lives on being sexual with people."

Feliks mutters, "Awkward..." under his breath, causing Alfred to roll his eyes and motions for Matthew to continue.

"The thing is though," his twin goes on. "If I understand right, it's generally.. not, harmful."

Alfred doesn't bother to bold back his reaction. "Bullshit!"

"I know, I know! But y'know... maybe we should just read through it more, maybe Toris can help fill in some blanks-"

"Yeah, about that," Feliks cuts in. "We'll need to go over to my place aaaand... we need the board."

Their response is instantaneous. "What?"

"Like, I get it," he says with his hands up in defense. "Okay, the board is an evil figment of evil, but that's what he said soooo...?"

Alfred runs a hand through his hair while Matthew does nothing more than look a tad dejected over the fact. He glances at Alfred, who only returns with a shrug, non-verbally stating the question of what else could they do?

"Okay then," says Matthew. "Go ahead and call Eliza, she said she was closing early, and tell her to bring it from the back. I stashed it under the shelf with all the broken kitchen stuff."

"Wait, why do I gotta call her?" Feliks demands and places his hands on his hips. "Why can't one of you do it?"

"Why don't you just do it?" Alfred asks in return. "You're always on the phone anyway."

Feliks huffs at his words and holds a fist out in front of himself, the universal acknowledgement that a game of rock-paper-scissors is in order that the twins agree on simultaneously by copying the action, which leads to Eliza answering the phone and discovers (without even knowing that it had been a contest of sorts) that Feliks is the one resigned to make the call. Their conversation is not exactly brief, though technically not a full conversation as she hangs up only two or three minutes later.

"What now?" comes an annoyed call from Lovino behind the register, already closing it up for the day.

While they may be invested in the safety of their friend, the store they live by cannot go unattended, particularly if owner of said store were to ever find how neglected they leave it there could very well be serious consequence they would all like to avoid. As the most senior employee, Eliza has volunteered to work and because Lovino is now beginning to feel uncomfortable in his home, he too has volunteered for the day.

"Feliks called and said Toris wants to help," she quickly explains. "And... he wants us to bring the board."

The cash register slams shut with a ring, the coins rattling inside very noisily just by the sheer force.

"You're talking about the devil board from hell, aren't you?"

Eliza pockets her phone seamlessly while asking, "Is everything a devil with you?"

"Well whatever the fuck came into my house last night wasn't just an ordinary ghost, so what the fuck do you want me to call that shit?"

"Huh..." Eliza blinks and thinks it over. "Anyway, we have to take it back so are you ready to get goin'?"

"The register's counted out. We just need to lock the door on the way out."

"Already took care of it," she tells him and shuts off the lights. "Come on, the board's in the back, we'll go out through there."

Eliza exits the store front first with Lovino following close behind. The shelf with the broken kitchen appliances is right in front of them near the door, and as per instruction, Eliza looks below and spies the familiar box and feels a bit wary on going near the object since the entire series of events took a turn for the worse. She feels Lovino come to a stop beside her and she gives him a sideways glance.

"So the box is right there with the board in it," she points out. "You can go ahead and grab it, I don't mind."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because. I did my act of bravery last night."

"Yeah, thanks for ruining my entire fucking bathroom."

"Any time." She nudges him with her shoulder and asks, "So you gonna get it? Or are you just scared?"

Lovino gives her a hard glare and raises his chin stiffly and begins to stalk for the box. He stops right in front of it, the perfect distance to stoop down and scoop it up into his arms. Eliza says nothing as she bears witness to his shoulders tense and in doing so even shudder. It isn't until she hears him begin to mutter under his breath in Italian that she bothers to step closer.

"Are- Are you praying?" she asks.

"Shut up!" he cries. "I'm just getting ready to pick up the damn thing, lay off me already."

Eliza sighs and stoops down herself. "It's fine, look, I'll get it."

She picks the box up, jostling the contents and creating a clinking noise that feels as though it vibrates and echoes through the empty store.

"See?" she smiles. "Besides some creepiness, nothing scary."

Lovino opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by heavy sounding footsteps above them where they know to be Alfred's apartment. Both raise their heads and hold their breaths, not overly eager to keep hearing the sounds but just for the sake of clarification.

"Part of someone else's apartment must be overhead," Eliza rationalizes.

"Yeah, whatever the fuck, let's just get outta here."

Lovino reaches the door first and even holds it open for Eliza to go through to make a swifter exit. He hits the back lights as quick as ever and shuts the door behind them tightly. If it wasn't for Eliza's reminder to lock it as well, he would have gladly left it just to leave quicker.

**xxx**

-Hyuu~ I'm losing followers. While it makes me :/ it also made me X3. Because the number went back down to 69 at one point. (Hey, we already established how mature I can be.)

-Anyway, what happens next chapter was supposed to be included in this one too, but then it'd be way too long, and it started taking too long and it was starting to leave me all blararararaaahahaaa... Yeah.

-Hokay, so a few thing before I go: 1. Soundtrack is now available and the link to that is on my profile, so check that out if you want. 2. Hyperkaoru drew me more fanart! -there is no emoticon to express my happiness- And I really think you guys should check that out and give some love because they are awesome and she is awesome and it's all so awesome and I'm not sorry for using the word awesome so much. But yeah, links to those are also on my profile. :3

-And finally, I wanna follow more Hetalia people on Tumblr, so hit me up with a url if you got one. ^-^

-Aight then, that's all for me tonight. Keep beautiful, gaize, stay shiny, and I'll see you lovelies later. -hearts-

**xxx**

Nonny Love/Hate (and I'm gonna list all the Guests from most recent to back using numbers):

Hyperkaoru: I know I commented about how much I love the pictures but I just had to tell you that you are really amazing and thank you so much! ^-^ Also, to answer the fingering question, I forgot that I had taken it out in one of the earlier chapters because it wasn't coming out right. DX So in my head it still happened, but it didn't in the story. Or maybe we can say it did and it just wasn't written? :D

Boa: My cousin-sister-daughter-fairy-godmother! I miss you! Why you go back to Nevada? There's something missing without our resident Slytherin. :'( (Btw, we went Captain Balling. You missed out. ;D)

KittyWithCoffee: Thank you so much, I'm really glad you love it like that. ^0^

Liz: I think a lot of people had some Paranormal Activity flashbacks. XD Hopefully next chapter reaches the level of creepy I want. :)

Bai-Marionette: Lol, that's just some kind of luck there really. Good or bad, I guess it just depends on how you look at it. Dude, dude, Ivan, is like EVERYWHERE. At least that how it is to me. Oh lawdy lawd, I never would have thought of Ivan on the ceiling, but yes I think that is completely possible and freaky like all get out. DX (And to comment on the cast-iron skillet thingum, they don't? But I have three! ;A;) The soundtrack is linked on my profile. I don't think it's too scary, really more mellow if anything, but I gave it a whirl so. ^-^ Thanks so much for reviewing, and leaving a long one at that, I really felt the excitement. XD

Guest 1: Lookit, idek if you're still reading, but in case you are, I'm sorry if that's the way you took it, because that's not what I meant.

Guest 2: I know, poor Alfred! DX Filler chapter was pretty filler, but it's an Alfred-centric chappie next so hopefully that'll turn out better. And as you can see, everyone handles the situation pretty basically. X3 But anyway, thanks a ton for reviewing! :)

NightSongstress: The scarf! There is definitely something going on with the scarf, but not necassarily the whole traveling bit. ;D This chappie was kinda filler, but the plot definitely progresses with the next update and stuff. And more Arthur inclusion. Because it was an inevitability, I guess. XD

Guest 3: Not at all, I love there being different reactions. It'd be boring otherwise, ne? :D

Guest 4: Hohno! I didn't think that could happen. D: But at the same time I can't help but be a little proud that I did that. :3

RainbowJapan: Y'know I've never actually seen Paranormal Activity 2, but I've seen all the others how is that I don't even... DX


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey gaize, things get pretty violent at the end. Very violent. Violent. Vi-oo-lent. Hokay now I'm just having fun. Bloodshed and tears ahoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>xxx<strong>

**Chapter 8  
><strong>**xxx**

Everything visible is drenched in a cool blue.

The entire bedroom is illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through open blinds, slanting an obscure light against random objects littered sporadically and causing their shadows on the wall to distort and elongate into unrecognizable shapes and patterns. In the far corner, across the soft carpet that is colored darker than it's normal beige and against the wall with aforementioned window, is a fairly sized bed.

Sprawled on his stomach, tangled in the blankets and sheets, is Alfred, his legs askew and one arm hanging over the edge. He snores lightly into his pillow; half buried into it and lost to the world. His glasses rest next to the bedside lamp on the nightstand not a few inches away, and on the floor in front of the stand is a trail of clothing that leads to the desk on the other side of the room to the bookcase filled with trinkets and pictures rather actual books to the closet left open and displaying what little items of clothing hangs as it should. Everything appears as it should.

However, in the darkest corner of the room, something begins to manifest, making the shadows stretch and grow as it comes to life. Alfred remains oblivious to the fact, still sleeping sound in the comfort of his bed. He has no knowledge of the dark creature stirring to life in the very confines of his bedroom, of his own personal sanctuary.

A low rumbling, on the very border of a growl, emanates from within the concealed darkness. Crouched and curled within itself, the being expands upwards, lengthening out to near it's entire height with surreal grace. Stooped slightly, it opens it eyes, keeping them narrowed as the moonlight hits at just the right angle to give them an eerie glow that causes the violet shade to permeate through the dark, even half-hidden beneath longish strands of matted snow colored hair they shine as a beacon does through the fog.

The rumbling commences once more, sounds out as a step is taking forward, the slivers of light falling in sharp slants against the floor and catches the sight of pale feet with extended thick claws snagging on the threads of carpet as they creep closer and closer to the foot of the bed. Standing there, sallow skin appearing almost translucent, stretched taunt over well-toned muscles and looking like dried leather, the creature's lips quirk upwards, curling over sharpened teeth and into a feral grin.

The mattress dips in with the first move of lifting itself onto the bed, causing the springs to creak and the blanket to rustle. Slowly it creeps over Alfred's legs, careful not to disturb his sleep by jostling against any limbs. It comes to hover above the narrow part of his waist, and Alfred, still in a deep enough slumber, twists beneath the blankets until he's almost laying flat on his back, all with his eyes remaining shut.

Something akin to a purr echoes in the depths of the creature's chest, obviously pleased with the display Alfred gives and sinks lower, balancing itself on elbows. By this time, in his new position, Alfred is able to feel the close brush of another being so close to him. He shifts slightly, trying to determine what is wrong and in a gesture of comfort, the creature above him brings a hand to rest against his cheek, the tips of his claws poking gently against his temple. It's at a tender caress, that Alfred's eyes begin to roam behind his lids as a sign of him regaining consciousness. He's able to hear the other's breathing now, coming in clear deep little bursts of anticipation and it's enough to have his eyes flash open-

Alfred jolts awake with a start, almost hitting his head against a window he has been leaning dangerously close to falling against as a sharp gasp escapes him, one that is not loud enough to be heard by the others. His eyes blink rapidly, regaining their focus and does a quick scan around his surroundings. He instantly recognizes the inside of Gilbert's car; beige colored interior speckled with holes from previous owners and bleached spots from sunlight, brown leather seats patched with blue duct tape, and there's that familiar scent of artificial cherries coming from the air freshner hanging on the rear-view mirror. Beside him is Matthew, speaking almost automatically as he reads from the thicker brown leather bound book. He shakes his head a bit, rubs at his ear and tunes in halfway through what he's reading.

"-bond between summoner and entity takes place," he listens to Matthew say, "the reversal effects can come to be either that of severe difficulty or often times impossible, as it is physical proof to the entity itself that it is forever welcomed."

"Well why the fuck would you guys even want to summon something in the first place?" Gilbert asks from behind the wheel. "That's what I don't get."

"We weren't trying to! Well, okay, so like maybe a little because of the whole ghost thing behind the game, but come on! They sell those boards to kids all the time, like hell we knew an actual real demon was gonna come through it and get all Paranormal Activity on us."

"There's a big difference between them though," cuts in Lovino. "That thing you used was not some cheap piece of shit knockoff they sell in stores. You should've known then that something wasn't right."

"It's like they don't have any common sense or anything," Gilbert says to him.

"Right, 'cause you're chalk full of it, aren't you?" says Matthew, shutting the book with a loud thump. "Mister Beach Party."

"Hey, you can't call my screw up with the bonfire out on the same level. At least mine was easy to fix when we got it contained. I'm not the one who thought it'd be a good idea to screw around with a Ouija board and try to have a heart to heart with a ghost."

"And even if he tried to bring that thing into my house, his ass would've been kicked out the door faster than you could shove your face full of pancakes or whatever the hell it is you eat."

"Yeah. So we win."

"Damn, Mattie," Alfred says when their argument is settled with a small grin plastered on his face. "The first time you're double-teamed and it's not even enjoyable."

"Go suck a nut," Matthew says immediately. "And when did you wake up?"

"Somewhere at the beginning of you getting your ass handed to you." Alfred shrugs. He doesn't let on to hearing bits and pieces of what his brother had been reading aloud, but it does settle in the back of his head. Stored away for future reference should the time ever call for such a thing.

"I come in to help you and this is how I get treated for it. Never changes." Matthew rolls his eyes and faces forward in his seat once more. "And you two, by the way, you can't use pancakes in an insult, because they are the most delicious thing in the world. So by trying to do that, you instantly lose."

They both ignore the rebuttle, the only reply to such being in the form of a scoff or quick eye roll, and the car ride progresses in silence. Only the sound of the motor and tires running over asphalt filters through the car until at some point when reaching a stop light, Gilbert opens his mouth again.

"He's right. They are really good."

The home Toris shares with Feliks and two others, is by far older and can even be considered grander than any of their own. Located in the Historic District, his ancestral home passed down to him by his mother and a long line of generations before him resides in the center of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by other houses of similar construction and style. They park on the street, right in front of the two level home, covered in grey shingles and maple wood, a wrap-around porch complete with thin wooden pillars and sloping roof tops, surrounded by plush grass and white wrought iron fencing. It reeks of another era, more so evident against the late afternoon back drop that Alfred feels obliged to give a low whistle in appreciation as he passes through the gate on a visit, earning him a nudge from Matthew's elbow.

"Do you really need to do that every time?" he asks.

"You don't think it deserves it?"

"Where's Liz's car?" Gilbert asks while they walk the path leading to the front entrance. "They should be here already, they left before us."

"My brother and Feliks are in the car with her," Lovino reminds him. "For all we know they saw something shiny on the road."

"I'd say that was mean, but it's happened before so..."

As the ever growing introvert, a character trait Feliks feels will soon grow into the more serious beginning stages of agoraphobia as playing in the role of the ever paranoid best friend, Alfred has only ever really kept company with Toris when needing his clothing to be mended or at small parties. Still, when the door opens to reveal Toris standing right behind the door frame in dark slacks and a loose white button down shirt kept untucked with his shoulder-length hair pulled back into a low pony tail and looking a bit thinner than before, Alfred is just as ecstatic to see him and in truth would push past the others to envelope the other in a standard hug if it weren't for the curious look Toris gives him when his eyes land on him.

"Hello, everyone," he greets. "Perfect timing, we're almost ready in here."

Being the one nearest the door, Lovino attempts to enter the house first. However, Toris raises his hand to stop him, and before anyone within the party may question his action, he is quick to explain.

"I need you to state the full name you identify with so I can invite you in. It's a formality thing to make sure that nothing extra comes into the house."

"I thought that was the whole point of coming over here," says Gilbert. "To find out what the hell all of this is."

"Technically yes, but I'd rather have it come in on my terms instead of giving it any free reign if it's around."

"Makes sense, I guess," says Matthew. "Does full name include middle name or...?"

"If you have one, it'd be better to say that too. Pretty much, if it's on your birth certificate, it should be said. I think the only loophole is if what's written on that is actually not what your intended name is, but that a different story."

"Different story like what?" Alfred can't help but ask.

In the doorway, Toris shrugs slightly. "Um, example would be if your mom or someone gave you a name, but then wrote a different name on any legal documents. Or if there is a name that you personally feel creates your identity more, that's another loophole. Does any of that make sense?"

"As much sense as Feli's meatball earmuffs," Lovino deadpans.

"He made them, but weren't you the one who gave him the idea?" Matthew asks from behind him.

Lovino does not respond. Instead, his mouth turns downward in a frown not visible to the twins behind him for the split second it takes for him to make a decision and say, "Lovino Romano Vargas. Not Romeo. Not like the cheese. My grandfather gave it to me, none of you bastards better make fun of it."

"Dude, my middle name is worse," Alfred assures. "No, really."

"He's telling the truth," Matthew adds. "Sometimes I wonder what our parents were on when they named him, and then just be thankful that mine's normal enough."

"Wow, Mattie, thanks for that."

"Any time."

Toris allows Lovino entry as soon as their back and forth comes to an end. He gives his attentions to Gilbert, who automatically says, "Gilbert Beilschmidt. I don't have a middle name."

"That's fine, come on in."

Matthews turn comes along after. Without any hesitation he states his name as, "Matthew William Kirkland" and is granted permission into the house.

When Alfred's turn comes along, there are no words shared between him and Toris. One reason being that after having three examples there should be no need to explain, and yet, what seems to be the cause hesitation is the calm facade Alfred notices on Toris' face. He tries to appear at ease in front of his friend, but the way his eyes keep flickering between his scarf and his face is far too noticeable for Alfred to even pretend oblivion and before he is even able to question this odd behavior, Matthew calls his name and startles him into following the same pattern as the others.

"Alfred Forsythe Jones," he says. "It's my mother's name, I took it when I left home."

"Really?" Matthew asks, and the impending conversation over his decision would commence if it weren't for a certain interruption.

"Forsythe?" Gilbert laughs from inside. "Are you serious? That's what the 'F' stood for all this time?"

"Shut up, Gil! I didn't laugh at you when you almost set the entire beach on fire!"

"Okay, for the last time, it wasn't the entire beach and I got that shit contained. And yes actually, you were laughing."

"Your middle name's fine, Alfred, don't pay attention too him," Toris says to him. "Come on in, hurry so I can say this next part."

Alfred slinks right past him, joining the others, right when Toris begins to recite, "Only those who have given their names have permission to enter this house unless called."

He shuts the door directly after and turns to face them. Toris gives them all a smile before addressing Alfred directly with, "Heh, haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, you too," he agrees and pulls the other into a brief hug. "I think the last time I saw you was that Christmas party Feliks had here last year."

"Speaking of," Lovino begins, "What about everyone else? Are they gonna do the same thing or was that something just for us because of him?"

"Feliks doesn't have to, it's his home," Toris answers while locking the door. "Eliza and Feliciano will have to do the same thing though as a precaution, but I already told Feliks what to do when they get here from picking up some salt on the way back. That's probably what's keeping them. We're running low and we'll need a pretty good amount for tonight."

He suddenly turns towards them sharply and quickly says, "If you could refrain from any Supernatural references, I would really appreciate that."

The three of them, Alfred, Matthew, and Gilbert, immediately look put out at his words, clearly prepared to do just that and allow their shoulders to sag as their opportunity is shot down. Toris takes the few steps needed to return back to the head of the party, small smile of amusement showing, and proceeds to lead them through the house.

They pass through the arch of the entry way into the main hallway, the one corridor that runs it's entirety through the home and gives access to every room available on the ground floor. Their footsteps echo slightly in the quiet that consumes their party, reverberating against the polished light wood that glints slightly from the dimmed lily-shaped light fixtures adorning the red and gold striped papered walls. Alfred does not hold back in his observations, in all honesty, he's never really journeyed so far back into the house, his visits consist of the large living room up front where their parties are held and of the room across the way where Toris hosts his own small home-run business of clothing alterations and custom tailoring.

It's such a short passage, and yet decorated with many frames, all filled with people who have lived decades before them, all dressed in clothing from the different ages leading up to the more modernized era. As Toris leads them to the end of the hall, on the wall juncturing the one with an opened archway covered with red velveteen curtains, the very ones Toris holds open for them to pass through, Alfred catches the sight of a younger Toris smiling in a dark wooden frame. He pauses in front of it while the others exit the hall and enter the room before them, and takes advantage of the moment where he can make some observations of a familiar face displayed in the photograph before him.

Toris stands in the center of the frame, no more than seven or eight years of age, and crouched behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, is a young woman. Alfred figures her to be his mother, who despite her unconventional beauty looks exhausted and worn, and at the same time utterly delighted to simply hold her child. A sudden wash of envy overcomes, but he hurriedly dismisses the thought as easily as it comes.

His interest does not go by unnoticed though. Once the others have passed onto the next room, Toris is quick to note Alfred lagging behind and the reason behind it happening. He allows his hold on the curtain to fall and makes his way over to the blonde, proceeds to stand a little aways from him but close enough to see which portrait it is that's gathered his attention. Alfred spies from the corner of his eyes that Toris is unable to hold back a small smile before he speaks.

"That's me and my mom," he says. "We took that the day her and my dad's divorce went through. She wanted something that showed a new beginning instead of an ending."

"If you didn't tell me that, I don't think I would have thought that," says Alfred. "She doesn't look like someone who went through a divorce."

"I think she was just happy to get full custody of me."

"That I can believe. Does that mean you did that spending weekends at your dad's?"

"For awhile, but I stopped wanting to and he didn't bother with making an effort to change my mind, so I haven't seen him or talked to him in years. Not even after her funeral."

"Yeah, dads can be dicks."

His reply causes Toris to frown slightly. "That's not true. I guess some would say mine is, but parents are just people, and some of them are cut out for the job and some of them aren't. I can't hold that against him."

Alfred shakes his head slightly. "You're too rational, man."

"We can't all be stubborn," he replies with a small smile. "Come on, before everyone freaks out over us missing."

Toris gestures for him to take the lead and in doing so, Alfred walks through the curtain first with Toris trailing behind. The room they enter is not overly large, but grand enough to be able to carry a fair amount of people. The floorboards are darker, dustier, and not nearly as polished or kept in pristine condition as the flooring throughout the rest of the house. The walls are painted a dark blue, a pattern of fluer-de-lys repeated in a metallic gold decorates them from the floor to the decadent white-tiled ceiling that surrounds a large built-in mirror hanging over with a rather average sized chandelier dangling from an iron chain stuck right in the middle. In front of one of the floor length windows taking up one side of the room, their panes covered with cream colored lace and same red curtains, is a very tall ladder, one that is occupied by whom Alfred recognizes as Eduard and Raivas at the bottom, holding it steady.

They both call out a greeting upon seeing him, one that he returns as Toris joins them. He briefly watches their back and forth, not really paying attention to their words as he is to the black tarp in Eduard's hand and realizes that the mirror above them is already half covered, nailed to the ceiling with a different one that obstructs the reflection. He's confused over the fact, but asks no questions. He only turns away as soon as the hammering begins and looks for his brother, who in turn is observing the many pieces of furniture - desks, lamps, chairs, small tables, cabinets, and cases - cluttered together at one side of the room and wrapped in plastic.

"I've never seen this room before," Matthew comments after he's had a good look around.

"That's 'cause we never go pass the living room," Gilbert says while lifting a plush purple cushion from a pile tucked away in a corner. "What was this place for?"

"When the house was first built, this was made to be a sort of ballroom," Toris explains, walks away from the sounds of hammering so they would hear him clearer. "Then somewhere before the turn of the century it became an open theater for plays, and then it was turned into a game room during the 40's, and then my mom took it over for her business, and I've just left it alone after she died."

"And what did your mom do?" asks Lovino as he eyes warily in the direction of plastic covered hutches and cabinets, the cellophane distorting the objects carried within.

"She had something of a psychic business. Tea leaves, hydromancy, dream readings, things like that. She started studying things like old traditions when she was really young. She was really into it and a lot of ghost stuff."

"Of course. Of fucking course, why should anything be normal anymore?"

"How come you never mentioned that before?" asks Matthew.

Toris only shrugs. "No one ever really asked before and it's not really something brought up casually. _Hey guys, good to see you, by the way my mom did weird ghost stuff to pay the bills._ It's just something that doesn't happen."

With that much of an explanation, Lovino crosses his arms and turns away, begins to mutter under his breath to the point where only those closest to him even bother to listen, and with Matthew taking advantage of the set-up to roam around inspect certain things with a wary eye, Alfred decides to keep close to Toris. He makes his way over to ladder standing almost dead center in the room and comes to a halt besides the shorter male, nudges him slightly with his elbow and gives him a smile.

"So, what?" he asks. "Is it like a family business? Or trade, whatever? I mean, if you're so on board with this and all."

"My mom taught me some things growing up," he answers. "And I watched her sometimes, but I didn't want to follow in her footsteps or anything like that."

"Not that she didn't want you to though," Eduard calls from atop the ladder. "Raivis, watch out for the hammer, I'm going to throw it down."

"I know we don't use this room, but can we try to keep in it one piece?" Toris asks. "I don't want to make too much of a mess in here."

Despite the warning, there really is no helping the small thump the hammer makes when hitting the flooring, though no obvious damage seems to have been made much to Toris' relief while making a quick inspection before turning his attentions to Alfred and addresses him.

"I know I probably should have told you all of this first," he says. "Instead of telling Feliks to drag you all over here, I should have cleared it with you because it's all about you, but I kind of panicked when he explained what it was doing."

"Are you talking about the ghost thing that wants to have sex with him?"

Their heads snap sharply to the side, in the direction of the shortest blonde in the room that is currently keeping the ladder steady for Eduard. Raivis stares back at them with blunt honesty, his question being that of general naivety until he recognizes the looks being directed back at himself and looks away quickly.

"Toris, how does he know what the ghost is doing?" Alfred asks his friend specifically though Toris does not reply. Instead he nervously chuckles and looks away with a bit of a flush staining his face.

"Raivis," Eduard sighs from above. "Tact. We had this talk."

"Sorry," Raivis mutters and even has the sense to appear ashamed.

"Feli does it all the time," Alfred assures him before pointedly eyeing Toris. "Just don't spread it around. Like some people, I'm assuming."

"Is the tarp holding up, Eduard?" Toris calls out in hopes of changing the subject.

"It should," Eduard says while climbing down from the staircase. "I'll just move this to the side and to leave you guys some more room before we leave."

Toris thanks him as the tall blonde pushes the ladder together to fold and asks Raivis to pick up the ends for an easier move. The two

"You guys don't wanna stay around for all the spooky ghost business?" Gilbert asks them before they leave.

"I'll pass," Raivis replies. "I watched Toris' mom once before when we were younger and the whole thing just freaked me out."

"And you live here, how do you manage that? Knowing that she did all of that in here?"

"Please don't point that out like that," Eduard asks of him. "We do everything we can to keep it on a subconscious level."

Before Raivis is able to come to an entire epiphany, Eduard quickly instructs him to say goodbye to everyone before pushing him for the exit and says his goodbyes in return, taking extra time for a more elaborate farewell Toris' directions and promises of returning early the next day.

"That's fine, I'll see you guys tomorrow," Toris replies. "And thanks for covering the mirror for me, I owe you one."

Alfred waits until the two have left the room entirely and the rest of their party have returned to previous actions before turning to Toris and brings up a discarded subject.

"So, wanna tell me why Raivis knows about the ghost thing now?" he asks.

"I'm sorry," Toris says with utmost sincerity. "I shouldn't have said anything too specific, but it just slipped out when I explained why I needed them to help cover up the mirror."

Alfred's eyes travel upwards to the tarp covered area of the ceiling, scanning it in its entirety and not really understanding the reasons behind the coverage. "Yeah, what's up with that? I mean, anything with mirrors just always kinda confused me."

"It's because mirrors don't lie," Toris informs him carelessly. "Our perceptions can be different, but if whatever's bothering you breaks through to show itself, it won't show up looking like it really does. And chances are if it were to walk under the mirror, more than one person would freak out over what it really looks like."

"Y'know, for someone who doesn't follow in his mother's footsteps, you really think about these things."

"I have a lot of time to think," he shrugs. "I figure there's some kind of basis to superstitions otherwise they wouldn't exist. And it's always better to be safe than sorry."

Before Alfred can even begin to respond there's a high level of noise coming from the hallway that seeps through the entryway. Not a moment too soon, in comes an irrate looking Eliza carrying the box filled with the candles and board poking out with Feliks trailing after, his hand covering his mouth, eyes narrowed from holding in a bought of amusement, and Feliciano carrying a plastic bag bringing up the rear.

"Did you do what I told you to?" Toris asks Feliks, but is unable to receive a response from him as he's still unable to control himself for some reason. Instead he turns to Eliza, and asks what is the matter.

"It's because of my name," she says and sets the box down on the floor next to her. "He wants to laugh and I told him to just get it over with, but he didn't want to be mean and now he's like this."

"I think it's a pretty name," Feliciano says. "What's funny about it?"

"What's your name, Liz?" Gilbert calls, and already there's a shadow of a smirk beginning to form that clearly shows his anticipation.

Eliza turns towards him sharply, brow beginning to furrow, and she starts in his direction. She pauses only momentarily by Feliciano to dig through the bag still in his possession and fishes out a frying pan and brandishes it in Gilbert's direction, tags and all.

"Erzsébet," she says. "My name is Erzsébet Héderváry, say something about it, Gil, I swear I am going to hit you with this frying pan before the night is over."

"Why did you buy a frying pan?" Alfred cuts in to ask.

"It scared it off last time," she shrugs. "Thought it'd be pretty useful to have around."

"Yeah, but that was a skillet. There's kind of a difference. And you could've just brought one from the house, you didn't have to buy it."

"Alfred, you're gonna get hit with a frying pan," Matthew warns. "Shut up."

It's at this moment that Feliks finally removes his hand away from his face, takes a deep breath and appears to have composed himself. He smiles in Eliza's direction, almost apologetically and say, "I'm sorry, Liz, I so totally did not mean to laugh it's just, with so many years of knowing you as just Eliza, it was so far out there or whatever, y'know?"

"Feliks, I said it was fine," she replies. "Let's just drop it."

The subject ceases then, and they begin to congregate together in a manner of speaking, moving towards one another and gravitating to the spot where Toris and Alfred stand, waiting for whatever comes next.

"So, then," Toris begins. "Who has the board?"

"Oh!" Eliza sounds and walks back over to the box she has abandoned in order to threaten Gilbert properly. She brings it back to them all, takes a careful measure to stand in front of Toris and lets him know that it's inside.

Toris reaches in and pulls the thin board from the top of the pile, diverting his attention briefly from it to inspect the other contents and finding it to his liking. "Oh, good! There's candles in here, I thought I would have to scramble around in here for some."

Before any of them are able to question his enthusiasm for the candles, he takes a step away from Eliza to give the board a closer inspection, switching from holding it close to an arm's length away, making certain to look the object over from every angle. He suddenly moves away from the completely, turns on his heel and makes for the center of the room, right beneath the dangling chandelier.

"Just one more thing," he mutters, and tosses it straight up into the air.

The board sails high upward, perfectly straight, nearly hitting the dangling centerpiece until it begins to fall back down to the floor. Halfway through the fall, it spirals until coming to be perfectly parallel to the floor where it lands with a hollow clunk, raising the bit of dust that had escaped the hurried cleaning and sends it out in small billows all around its sides.

"Whoever carved this, did it all by hand and they knew what they were doing," Toris finally says. "It's not factory made, the designs are all uneven and stained with some kind of writing ink, but I don't know what kind. I don't know about the letters either, they look like someone wrote out the alphabet and copied it onto it, I've never seen another board with that kind of script, and they're all pretty standard and similar.

"This thing is personalized, and I wouldn't be surprised if whatever's bothering you, Alfred, to be to tied this somehow. But at the same time, things aren't attached to people unless there's a reason for it. If something's attached to an object, it will only haunt a person while that object is being disturbed."

He turns sharply to face him, and asks them all, "How many times did you guys use this?"

"Twice," Matthew answers instantly. "The first time it was us and Eliza, the second time it was just me and Feliks, Alfred wasn't playing."

"Oh my glob, that's right," Feliks says. "Alfred didn't play the second time, we just used his apartment."

"If that's true, than the one it should be haunting is you, Matthew," Toris tells him. "You're the one who's played in both sessions, so why is it after your brother?"

Matthew does not reply, and none of the others appear to know what to say in regards to the rhetoric. Alfred himself ponders the question. Matthew is the only common variable, besides the use of his apartment. Is that what it is? His living space being the new haunting grounds where the demon has been released? Though if that is the case, why follow him to Feli and Lovino's home? Why the extra precautions when entering this house lest the beast have the temptations to follow him here as well?

He doesn't know, and it's beginning to frustrate him to the point where he tugs his scarf closer against his throat for some form of odd comfort, not realizing that again he is catching Toris' eye with the action. He only tunes back into his surroundings when their host suddenly takes a seat on the floor and gestures for them to follow his lead. It's only when they mimic him does he bother to speak again to them.

"Before we do anything with it, I want to know what's been happening and what it is it's been doing, and what you've all seen," he says. "Feliks gave me his version already, I want to hear it from the rest of you."

Again, none of them jump at the opportunity to speak first, until surprisingly enough, Gilbert speaks out before them all.

"Well…" he begins, "I wasn't there when they played their games or whatever they are, so I don't know about that, but when we dropped him off from staying the night at our place, Mattie and me, we threw him on the couch and went out onto the walkway to talk to everyone else and the door just, bam! Slammed shut on us. Matt and me were trying to bust it open there since Liz dropped the ball on getting it open with the keys in her hand-"

"Strike one, Gil," Eliza put in from her seat.

"But then when we did, Al just like, standing there in the middle and I'm just thinking something along the lines of what the hell is he doing?, but then I heard this growl and then I look again, and there's this naked dude standing behind him, wrapping his arms around him and glaring at me from all the hair covering his face before he just… disappeared. He just disappeared."

"I didn't see that," Lovino says. "No, what I saw was this huge fucking bulking demon with a hunched back and devil horns looking whiter than Gilbert's failed hair bleaching ("I don't bleach my hair!") from that one day and had huge fucking talons on his hands and eyes that showed hell fire, and it was even worse last night in my bathroom."

"That's what I saw too!" Feli cries a bit enthusiastically. "I saw the same thing! But I didn't get to see what it looked like at our house, I was behind everyone…"

They all take a pause in order to send an odd look or two at the brothers. Alfred doesn't refrain from doing the same as he tries to understand their overimaginative perspective.

"The first time we played," Eliza begins after the staring ceases, "um, it was fine. Me and Matthew were just playing around. But then when we got Alfred to play, it just started focusing on him. Well, at first I thought Mattie was joking around until he told me he thought I was moving the board, and we both decided to leave it alone after that, but that day… I also saw the bottom half. It looked like normal legs, but there was a lot of hair, that just got thicker and thicker and I was too afraid to see what the feet looked like. By the time I tried to look at the top, it was already gone. And last night, I didn't get too good of a look, I was trying to control that skillet."

When she finishes her tale, the attention shifts from her to both Alfred and Matthew as they all wait for one of them to speak first. Alfred motions for Matthew to begin, not yet ready to share his own experiences, at least not in extreme detail.

"What Liz said, it was weird the first night, but nothing happened, everything was okay," he says. "Then the second time it played, the thing asked for Alfred right away and when we said no, it got mad. Well, mostly at Feliks, so we stopped, and I didn't think anything serious was happening. I thought he was just freaking out over nothing like normal…"

He cuts off his speech and turns to Alfred, a deep regret shining through his eyes as he tells his brother, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't say anything, you didn't know," Alfred says to him. "It's not your fault."

"But what did it look like to you, Matthew?" Toris interrupts to ask. "What did you see?"

Matthew's eyes lower slowly, almost hesitant to reply as though he isn't quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. "What I saw... It looked human. More human than it did anything else, anyway. He had a nose, a mouth, nothing that special to pay a lot of attention to, he looked just anyone else, only really pale..."

His words hang, and it's obvious he has more to say, but it takes a coaxing from Alfred, asking him to finish that he finally does.

"His eyes though," he says. "When I looked away from Alfred, to look at him, the only thing that really stood out to me were his eyes. They were like.. these intense eyes that wouldn't stop glaring at me. But they weren't red or anything like what they said over there. They were like this weird purple color. And honestly, that is the only thing I ever remember seeing."

Matthew grows quiet then, done with what he has to say, his eyes dart from looking at everyone somewhat through the course of his tale down to his lap when it's over and done. It causes everyone to switch their focus from him to Alfred, and frankly, it unnerves him. Even though he's always been one to garner attention in a crowd, he wants for them to look elsewhere if only for this moment where he tells them all what it is he has seen.

"It wasn't okay that first night," he confesses. "Nothing really happened, but I felt someone on my bed with me, even right on top of me, but nothing happened. Except I couldn't breathe. And after that night, I started having these dreams…"

He falters, unable to go into specific detail and not wanting to do such in any case. "I haven't really seen it. I've seen his smile, in the mirror, and I've seen his hands, they look like leather. Really white leather, with fingernails that grow into claws. I've hears his voice, and I've felt his tongue… on my ear.." He pauses to swallow back a lump growing in his throat, brought on by a sudden feeling of nausea before continuing. "On other places. Sometimes it feels like a cat's, most of the time it's just like a person's. But I've never really seen him."

He darts his eyes towards Toris, making sure to lock their eyes so that the sincerity of the question he is about to pose is evident enough to be taken with the utmost seriousness.

"Do I really have to talk about what it's been doing?" he asks. "I really don't want to."

Toris shakes his head, most likely because he's heard details from Feliks who has heard them from his brother and is giving him the kindness of sparring him from having the repeat it himself. However, the stares from the others stay on him, as though it's almost inconceivable a notion for Alfred himself having not seen the creature despite being the victim of its advances.

"How do you not see it when it's living with you twenty-four-seven?" Feliks can't help but ask. "I mean, that's totally shifty."

"Maybe it's shy?" Feliciano suggests.

"Are you stupid?" Lovino asks him. "How the hell is this thing gonna be shy when it's trying to drag him off in the middle of the night like nothing?"

"Then maybe it's just really ugly?"

"Well, no fucking shit."

"You guys are totes lucky that ghost thing isn't here," Feliks tells them. "It'd so be on your guys' asses quicker than anything."

"Feliks, I already told you," Gilbert says. "It's after Alfred, not us."

"Wait, what? No," Toris quickly says. "No, you guys, that's not how it works. I mean, Alfred may be the target, but everyone and anyone can be in danger."

"Why, because we're helping to protect him?" asks Eliza.

"Well, maybe, but just by being nearby and disagreeing-" He cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Feliks, you told me that the spirit threw the board at you."

"Well, yeah," the other answers. "It just like, table flipped it at me."

"And it could have been worse! You got lucky, Feliks, sometimes other people aren't."

"So even if it's after me," Alfred speaks up, "you're saying that it can get at my brother, or anyone else in here, without any reason?"

"I didn't read anything like that in these books," Matthew says and waves them both in the air.

"I'll have to look at those later," Toris tells him. "But trust me, I know that it can happen."

"How?"

"Because I've already gone up against one."

Absolute silence descends upon them, so quiet that not even their breathing can be hears, as though the admission has literally left them all breathless.

"I thought you said you didn't do the same thing your mom did," Alfred says to break through the quiet, his voice seeming too loud and too abrasive, all for the sake of prompting a continuation of the conversation.

"I don't," Toris replies. "It happened awhile ago, years ago, more on the accidental side, but it did happen."

"Yeah, no offense, Toris, but you're like a scrawny buck-fifty when wet," says Gilbert. "You're telling me you got into an epic strife with some demon thing from hell when you were younger?"

"You don't believe me?"

"Obviously not."

The room is quiet again, and before any of them can even so much as temper down the thin growth of tension that begins to rise with the semi-bait of Gilbert's disbelief, Toris does the does the unthinkable, and quickly starts to unbutton his shirt.

"I have," he says, "and this is my proof."

Halfway done, and with no one to stop him, Toris shrugs the top half from his shoulders and pivots away from them. Alfred's eyes widen at the sight, and from somewhere nearby he hears the sharp inhalation coming from Feliciano and he even hears Eliza and Matthew mutter amongst themselves, but he pays no attention to any distraction when the sight of long jagged scars are put in front of him on display, sliced from the top of his shoulders down to where they are no longer able to see beneath his shirt.

"Oh my glob..." murmurs Feliks, and he rises up from his seat. He hurries to Toris' side, hands in mid-air and looking as though he's at a cross between touching the scars with careful consideration and slapping the back of his friend's head. "That's where these are from? You told me it was from an accident, you fackin' liar!"

"Well, in all technicality," he says in an attempt to calm down his friend, "it was an accident."

His shoulders heave upward slightly with a deep breath he takes before turning to face the others. Each one of them look upon him in that sort of slack-jaw awe that comes with being enraptured in complete surprise. A clearer explanation seems to be in order and he does not hesitate to give such.

"When I was eleven," he begins, "there was this girl I liked. Her name was Natalya and for some reason, she started to become interested in the occult."

He shucks his shirt back on to his shoulders, adjusts it until it fits correctly, and rebuttons it while still speaking. "She knew my mother practiced a lot of it in her line of work, and she knew that she had taught me some of the basics so that I would be able to respect it enough to go about unharmed. She had actually wanted me to teach her fortune telling, but I didn't know any of that, so I suggested making a board for scrying, making our own Ouija board. I knew how to do that, it's simple enough, and it piqued her interest, so that's what we did."

He gestures to the board in the middle of the room. "It wasn't this one, I don't know where she got this or if she made it, but the one we used was made from a piece of poster board, black marker, and a shot glass. But it still worked, we did a formal calling and it was able to move on its own, we were able to call something.

"At first it was alright, it would answer simple things until it started to actually hold a conversation with Natalya. Asking about how she felt with her mother leaving her and her sister with her father. If it he was too cold towards her, if it made her feel unloved and neglected. When it started to say something about being able to fix that, I wanted to close it, I wanted it to leave, and that's when this happened."

Toris places a hand on his shoulder, the tips fingers press into the fabric that rubs against the beginning of the scars there. "It didn't like that, neither did Natalya. She had grown attached already, I don't know how or why, but it happened and the first thing it tried to do was drag me out of the room. I tried to fight back and it wasn't until I was hanging onto the doorknob that it did this. It clawed my back and when I finally let go, it threw me out."

The room is entirely silent, each one of them hangs on his words as Toris' story comes to its end. All of them appear to be slightly paler than before, the physical evidence obviously having an impact along with personal recounts that has even Toris himself look more anxious then before, though an encouraging hand from Feliks being put over his own puts a small smile back on his face. The two share a quiet exchange, and after Feliks removes his hand and Toris drops his own, the latter is able to continue speaking.

"I'm telling you all this because you guys need to know what kind of thing this could be," he says. "And if it's the same one I think it is, if it's the same one I met so many years ago, then there's already history here that could really muddy up this whole thing."

"How do you think it's the same one?" Eliza asks.

Toris gulps, his eyes turn to Alfred, lower to the scarf hanging around his neck and stays. "Because that is Natalya's scarf. That is the one that her sister made for her the first Christmas they spent alone with their father and it's the same one she wore when we did our seance."

Their gazes snap to Alfred, eyes boring into the scarf and the blonde himself has begun to shake. It takes a moment for him to regain his bearings and when he does, his hands race for his throat, scramble for a grasp at the fabric and grabs at a handful of wool that is immediately torn from his neck. He looks lost for just a moment, unsure of what to do now before finally settling on dropping it to the floor. He steps back, his eyes never leaving the article sprawled on the floor boards, expecting it to begin to move or perhaps even turn to ash and disappear before them. In truth, they are all staring at the scarf in the same manner, expecting something that will not happen.

"So totally not cool," Feliks says after awhile. "How did that like, even happen?"

"You guys work in a thrift store," Gilbert points out. "You tell me."

"How do you even know it's the same one?" asks Matthew. "Al found that scarf the box and it was full of women's clothes, but it could have belonged to anyone."

"Were the clothes old-looking?" Toris asks. "Lacings, ribbons, long skirts, and collars with frills? It's how she was beginning to dress before she dropped out of school."

"Yeah, we said that it looked like a witch had donated a bunch of clothes," Eliza recalls. "Remember? Alfred made that stupid joke about the cauldron."

"Can we stop picking on me?" Alfred asks no one in particular. "I think I'm going through enough bullshit as it is."

"Still could be anyone's though," Matthew continues to argue, ignoring Alfred and talking over him to Eliza.

Toris steps forward, approaches the abandoned scarf and stoops down to lift it from the floor. He takes it in hand with an oddly nostalgic expression, handles the fabric with care while standing and inspects the ends. At the one end, he takes a small little ball of a knot tied at a corner betwixt his fingers.

"No," he says. "This is Natalya's scarf. This little knot here is Katy's signature, something she did all of her knitting projects when she was first learning, I remember."

"Great," Alfred says loudly. "Well, at least we know we can get rid of this thing if she was able to and go on with her life."

"She passed away actually," Toris tells him. "It happened a some months ago, before my mom died, her sister stopped by to tell me before she moved out of her father's home just last week. She must have cleared out Natalya's things and left them at the shop. Only way I can think of it getting to you guys."

"Fuck me, this just keeps getting better and better."

"Totally," Feliks can't help to agree.

"Alfred's not gonna die though," Feliciano attempts to say with some conviction. "Right?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Matthew says.

"Us too," Eliza adds, spins the frying pan in hand and uses it to cut through the air. "That's what we're here for."

"I thought we were here to figure out what this thing is and why it's doing all of this," says Lovino.

"That too," Toris says while folding the scarf and moving to place it somewhere safe in the room. "Like I said, when we find out what the reason behind its attachment, it'll be easier to get rid of... That's how it should be anyway."

"Not really liking that should there, Toris," says Matthew. "I'm putting a lot of trust in you to take care of my brother."

"I know, and I really do want to help the best that I can. I know what needs to be done and I know how to do it, but there's a chance something can go wrong in anything we do, that's just how life works and why my stomach's the way it is. But, as long as we take precautions- Feli, can you pass me that bag you're holding? Thank you."

Feliciano hurriedly rises from the floor and steps forward, handing over the plastic bag from the market. Toris opens it and is instantly puzzled. He turns to Feliks and asks, "Why did you buy so much salt?"

"Because like, I didn't know if I should buy the regular one, or the sea salt one, or even like the whatever Kosher is one," Feliks answers. "You said you needed it for tonight so I knew we weren't gonna eat it."

"Huh. Actually the Kosher one might be better," Toris says and pulls out the large black box. "There's always strength in numbers, but at the same time it can lead to more weak links. A little extra help can't hurt." *

Despite his positivism, when rising up with the others and as he continues to watch, a hollow feeling begins to pull through Alfred's stomach when carefully bearing witness to Toris opening the container and proceeds to create a large circle by pouring the salt onto the floor around the board, thickly and carefully to ensure there are no cracks or breaks. It's an almost sense of dread that encloses on him, something foreboding he can't help but feel unnerved by when taking in the sight of his friend's actions combined with the subtle warning he has spoke of only moments earlier. He schools himself to be at ease, however, willing to believe that the apprehension is nothing more than a construct of nervousness rather doubt that anything at this point could be done so without difficulty. He reminds himself that Toris understands what he is doing, more than any of them ever could, again and again until the circle is complete and the box is shut and Toris straightens himself to speak up once more.

"Alright," he begins, "one thing you guys have to understand is when you walk into this circle, there is no getting out until everything is over and done with. If you walk into it, you're a part of this and you need to take it seriously. "

He addresses them all, but it's quite noticeable that by the end of his speech, he looks deliberately in the direction of Feliciano and his brother. While meaning well, their reputations for being able to handle events of frightening nature are as well known as Alfred's, and the great possibility of an extremely terrifying encounter of this caliber may very well prove to be too much for persons whom are not necessarily needed. Seeming to understand as much, Lovino gathers his brother's attention, and in a very serious manners, asks him, "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Alfred watches intently as Feliciano does not respond right away. He begins to appear uncertain, though when locking eyes with Alfred, there's a smidgeon more of a determination that shines by his face and he nods sharply. Lovino sighs and Gilbert places a hand on his shoulder, it's their own way of agreeing.

With their consent, Toris turns away and approaches the box once more, sets aside the container of salt down next to it, and gathers in his arms a bundle of the jar enclosed candles. He goes around and places one in each of their hands, murmuring their names while doing so and from within his own pocket, reaches and pulls out a box of matches.

"I'm going to light each of the candles I gave you one-by-one," he tells them. "And when I do, go right into the circle, and put it down somewhere on the inside of the outline. Not on the outline, just next to it, on the inside."

He approaches Feliks first, and for a brief moment, the two pass a silent exchange that only ends with Feliks sighing with impatience and Toris lighting his candle. After him is Eliza, followed by Feliciano, then Lovino, then Gilbert, each with their own match that is replaced in the box along the unused ones. Matthew is the next to enter, though does so slowly after having his candle lit and begins to walk through the salt barrier. He's continuously watching as Toris approaches his brother and even after setting down his candle within the confines of the circle, keeps an eye on their exchange that begins with Toris shaking the match box in front of Alfred.

"Ready?" Toris asks him.

"As I'll ever be," Alfred says and holds his own candle out to be lit. "But yeah, let's get this party started."

Toris strikes another match, allows the flame to elongate upwards before tampering down to average height and tilts it inwards to light the wick. He blows it out once the flame catches on, waves the burnt stick in the air so that it forms wisps of grey acrid scented smoke and does the same as the others, places it back into the box. He nods for Alfred to follow after the others, to which he does so readily and passes through the salt barrier. He places his candle near the one he's seen given to Matthew, before coming to stand next to his brother.

Toris makes his way to a plastic covered cabinet, tearing the covering to the side in search of something, a small notebook and an ordinary black pen. Alfred hears some of the other's talking, though he's not paying any real attention to anyone but Toris as he stops to possess another jarred candle, for his own use no doubt and juggles the objects he already carries in order to light it in the same manner as the others.

"I want you two to be in charge of writing down the letters it goes to on the board and reading out what it says. If it gives you a name that is not any of ours, don't say it. If it gives you anything in Latin, don't say it. If it gives you anything in any dead language, or even a language that exists but you don't know, don't say it. Okay?"

"Don't worry, man, I know not to read the latin," Gilbert tells him while taking the notebook and pen. "I don't want a redneck torture family to go on a rampage."

"If I didn't feel so confident in holding this pan, I'd take those away from you," Eliza says. "You just proved to be too irresponsible."

"Shut up, Liz."

"Strike two."

Ignoring their antics, Toris goes on to instruct Matthew, Feliks, Lovino, and Feliciano on where they should be positioned. "You guys are going to be the ones controlling the board."

"Fuck my life," mutters Lovino and is instantly nudged by his brother's elbow.

"Feli, you'll sit at the top of the board, and I need you to move it so that the top is pointing North, point it towards me. Yeah, like that. Feliks, you're sitting East. That's on the left. No, my left, turn around. Lovino, you're sitting South and Matthew, you're West."

Alfred stands idly by, awaiting instructions. Though when Toris finally pays him some attention after the others have settled into their places, he's treated with a smile and is told, "You'll be standing next to me the entire time. Since I'm going to be the mediator, it'd just be better for you to stay close to me."

"Is that safer?" Matthew asks.

Toris tilts his head with the expression of thinking the question through with some great consideration. "It can be."

He gives both Matthew and Alfred a small smile, and after breaking eye contact with the brothers, he looks down at the objects remaining in his hands. His thumb runs over the length of the matchbox for just a moment before breathing out lightly, finally taking another of the matches to light his own candle, and stepping into the circle.

Starting from behind Feliciano, and moving counter-clockwise, Toris walks on the inner edge of the salt circle, speaking the entire time.

"My name is Toris Laurinaitis," he says. "I am the mediator of this session, the master of this house, and the creator of this sacred space made for the protection of everyone who has given their name."

When he comes full circle, he bends down to place the candle down on the circle itself, pausing for just a moment in his crouched position. He stands, but there's a hesitation in that stance Alfred recognizes and before he can realize his movements on a conscious level, he finds himself drifting towards the other male with the intention of listening carefully should Toris say anything more.

From behind, Alfred watches as Toris sighs a bit too heavily, appearing almost uneager and doubtful before shaking the image away. In a low, clear voice he says, "I'm inviting the spirit haunting Alfred Forsythe Jones, who is now protected by the health of this circle and by my own, and vice versa, to use this board for communication."

That hollowness returns with a vengeance, swallowing Alfred completely. It dawns on him, and with the realization of what part of this ceremony is so reminiscent of, the one that had been explained to him along with so many others down in the basement so many years ago, it brings on this wave of nausea, the only feeling that combats against the icy sensation that has him so enveloped.

"Toris," he calls softly and instantly gains the other's attention. His tongue darts out briefly to wet chapped lips as he does his best to accurately word his concerns. "Did.. Did you just bind yourself to me?"

Instead of answering the question, Toris gives him an odd look and asks in return, "How do you know what a binding is?"

Even without the hesitation in giving Toris an answer to his own inquiry, whatever excuse Alfred could have given him, it's interrupted with Felliciano crying, "It's moving!"

Alfred breaks away first, his head turning in the direction of the board where certainly enough, each of their four arms are moving in perfect sychronization to the directions the planchette moves. As Toris quickly stands and brushes past Alfred, the blonde following him in order to get a better view of the board, Eliza's soft mutters of the letters it flies to for Gilbert's transcripts are the only sounds that accompany the grainy slide of the object travelling across the wood.

When it comes to a stop, Gilbert takes the initiative to read out what it has written.

"It said, _Hello Alfred_."

Feliks scoffs from his seat. "This stupid be-"

"Feliks, be quiet," Toris harshly cuts him off. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to talk at all."

Feliks's pout combined with the small snicker stemming from one of the others sitting near him, Alfred isn't completely sure who it comes from, has lifted the mood somewhat, and almost makes the entire situation appear normal. Yet when the planchette begins to move again, it's sobers them entirely, reminding them all as to what is really happening in this room.

"I think it spelled out your name," Alfred tells Toris, which has the other male quickly ask the two in charge of transcribing everything what it's saying.

As Gilbert is still writing what letter the planchette moves over, Eliza reads out to them.

"_I see you're still trying to control things Toris_," she says. "_Let me.. talk to.. Alfred._"

"So it is you," Toris says to the board. "What's your name?"

"_I.. am not.. telling you that… I know what you want with it_. What does that mean?"

Toris ignores Eliza's question, for all intent and purposes, he does not want to be distracted with the triviality of having to explain things. "But you know mine," he says. "That's not fair."

"_I never.. wanted to know… But Natasha was always.. complaining… You never left her alone._"

"Why would I want her to be alone with you after what you did to me?"

Gilbert curses under his breath, and Eliza is all astonishment as those who are in control of the planchette are being dragged back and forth rapidly across the board much to their dismay.

"I can't keep up," Gilbert admits, and Eliza takes the notebook from him to hurriedly jot down the letters as quickly as possible.

When the planchette comes to a stop, and the pen rest on the paper, they look to her, waiting for the message to be read. Eliza, however, is completely still. Her eyes remain fixated on the words in front of her, her mouth moves barely as she scans the lines over and over again. Impatient, Gilbert steals it back and reads aloud.

"_You deserve your punishment for interfering. You do not need me. Natasha needed me. Alfred needs me. And you are in the way again. Leave us alone and none of you will be hurt._"

"Did that thing just threaten us?" Lovino asks.

"That's what it sounds like," Matthew answers.

"Gilbert!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"You guys," says Toris. "You need to calm down. You can't let it bait-"

"Need you…?"

His words are quiet, something that shouldn't even be heard over the panicky upstarts, but they call the focus of all them to direct to Alfred, who carries an expression of borderline rage.

"Need you?" he repeats. "I don't need you. I never asked for anything from you. Hell, I don't even want you anywhere near me. And I sure as _fuck_ don't want to be left anywhere alone with _you_!"

It's too quiet in the room, his words end with a sharp bite and no one can anticipate what is to come.

Just as Toris makes to say something, the four around the board leap back from it with sharp cries, each one taking a moment to inspect their hands before they bare witness to the planchette glowing eerily bright on the board and begins to skid across the wood rapidly.

Matthew snaps in the direction of Eliza and Gilbert, asking, "What's it saying?"

"I don't know!" Gilbert says, and Eliza only shrugs. "It's moving way too fucking fast."

As quickly as it begins, it comes to a halt, stock still and puts everyone on edge. Suddenly, a crackling sound begins to rise up from the board, steadily growing louder and louder until a flame sprouts up from under the planchette, growing brighter until the entire board is engulfed in licks of red and orange.

It startles them all, causing those closest to fall back and scramble away, and in turn forcing those behind them to skitter on the edge of the salt circle. They're rendered speechless, and remain so even when the fire falls back into it's starting point and folds into itself, leaving nothing behind by a charred piece of wood and lump of ash resting ontop of it. The entire room shudders, causing the furniture and anything hanging to shake and rattle. The curtains hanging over the windows billow outwards simultaneously, and it all starts to grow darker, colder, so much to the point where their breaths can be seen in front of their faces.

Then the unthinkable occurs, Toris swears, very loudly. Wide-eyed, they stare at him as he fidgits in place, push his hands into the front of his hair, and mutters unintelligible words to himself. Eventually, when he's calm enough to remember his company, he straightens himself and clears his throat, pink dusting his face the whole time.

"Sorry," he says. "I just… Okay, all you need to do exactly what I say because.. I'm sorry, I should have expected this."

"Hey," Feliks calls to him, reaching over to take his hand and everything. "Toris, it's like totally okay right now, we're all fine. Tell us what to do."

Toris takes in a deep breath and nods. "Okay, um, it can't get at us as long as we're in here." He gestures to the salt surrounding them. "And as long as we believe that, it'll be strong enough to keep us safe.

The room shudders again, more violently and sends the chandelier above swinging.

"It's gonna fall on us," Lovino says, his eyes never leaving that chandelier.

"It can't fall on us because we're safe in this circle," Toris stresses. "Nothing. Can. Hurt. Us."

"Fuck you and your circle, Toris, that thing is going to fall on us and some fucking salt on the ground is not going to stop that. It's not going to stop a damn thing."

It stops. The shuddering and the swinging, it all stops.

"No," Toris whispers and his eyes fly all over the room. "No, he's lying. He doesn't-"

He's cut off completely by the chain keeping the chandelier up snapping clean off and coming straight at them. Someone screams, it's hard to tell who as chaos reigns over them in their attempt to dive out of the way of falling glass and crystal. The second his foot is outside of the circle, Lovino is grabbed by the back of his hair, dragged far out into one of the room's corners and thrown up against a wardrobe loitering the area where he's left unconscious No one notices until Gilbert cries out for him, and even then it's only himself and Feliciano who run to his side.

With them out of the way, Toris is the next target. He's driven down to his knees, crying out in anguish as the scars on his back are made into new wounds, demonic claws tearing through his shirt and gashing him in the same manner as years before. Blood runs in thick streams of down his back and splatters against the floor. It pools around him as he's forced onto all fours, something heavy pressing down into the very middle of his back, digging into his wounds and causing more of his blood to spill. A split second later, he's pushed even further down, his head made to lay directly against the floorboards as his arms is brought upwards and bended backwards until several snaps are heard and screams filled with pain fall out from between Toris' lips.

"Get away from him!" Feliks shrieks, crying and trying to pull Toris away. "Leave him alone, you stupid bastard, just leave him alone!"

It slaps Feliks right across the face, with so much strength is knocks him over completely. Though before anything more can be done to him, Eliza comes into the scene swinging her frying pan in every direction near them. Unable to see where the demon moves, she's at a loss, but she makes her intent clear all the same.

"I can't see you," she admits. "But I am not afraid of you! And I won't let you hurt them!"

"Liz!"

Gilbert grabs at her shoulder for her attention and startles her fiercely. Without a second, Eliza spins sharply, swinging the frying pan upwards and hitting Gilbert's lower face, knocking him onto his back with a loud clang and a shout of pain.

"Oh, my god," she says and falls to her knees next to him. "Oh, my- Gil! Are you okay?!"

And all the while Alfred has been watching in horror. Splayed on the floor and surrounded by shards of crystal and scattered grains of salt, at a loss of what to do. Matthew crawls over to him, and Alfred allows him to look him over.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," Alfred answers. "No, I'm fine. How 'bout you?"

"I'm okay. But I think we need to get everyone outta here, before something happens to you."

He's ready to agree to the plan, but before he's able to say as much, Matthew's suddenly torn away from him. Alfred shoots up from the floor, looking for his brother and seeing that he's being dragged away much like Lovino had by the scruff of his shirt, his shoes not even touching the floor and it's a breaking point.

"No!" he shouts and finally stands. "No, stop it! Stop it now!"

He's breathing heavily, but at the same time relief floods through him at the sight of Matthew being dropped. An enormous sigh racks through him, but despite all of it, he's still on a rampage.

"Are you fucking stupid!" he shouts. He isn't able to see where it is, but it doesn't prevent him from shouting so there is no mistake in it hearing him. "Do you really think any of them are doing any of this for themselves? They do it for me! They do it because they know how much I hate it! I wasn't joking, I don't want you around me! I hate having you around me! I hate having you there when I'm sleeping! I hated everything! I. Hate. You! I do! It's me that wants to get rid of you!"

There's no shuddering of the room, there isn't anything again. Even the temperature seems to rise a bit, and besides the sniveling of Feliciano over his brother's body and Feliks quietly crying over Toris, it almost seems normal.

Alfred opens his mouth to say something else, but is instantly cut off when something feeling much like a fist, pummels into his stomach and sends him doubling over.

They cry out his name, he hears that much, but Alfred is much too preoccupied with the sudden assault to pay much attention to such particulars. An elbow hits at the back of his neck, sending him down to land on his hands and is immediately kicked over onto his back. His glasses have fallen off, everything is such a blur and he can only feel hands grip at his right leg and hoist him up into the air. A fuzzy blob of a person runs towards him, and he supposes it's Matthew, but before anything can be done, he's lifted even further upwards, and thrown right into the mirror hanging over them.

Through the tarp, it shatters and begins to cut through the fabric with its massive weight. Alfred can feel large shards protruding though cutting through his clothing and into his skin. He hisses at it, and when it appears that he's to be thrown against it again, he instinctively reaches and grabs for the tarp to hold on to, pulling it out from its hold and letting the broken mirror fall down.

He hears them scream, Eliza maybe, it could be Feliks, he isn't sure. It's only a moment's pass when he's let go, and falls right along with the remaining pieces down onto the ones that have broken completely into fine little shatters. He lands on his back with a sickening crunch, inhales for air and only breathes out thick coughs laced with blood. His eyes are closed, his body is racked with pain, and he can hear the others crunching through the mess to reach him but they're not quick enough.

Again, he's taken by the ankles, both this time, and dragged through the wreckage. Everything scrapes against him, lodges into skin where it can, and he tries to scream but can only let out little gutturals of sounds colored red with the steady stream blood falling out of his mouth.

He's thrown into a wall, hitting it with the front of his body, his face smashing right into it before he's flipped over and pinned, dragged higher and higher so no other may reach him. He's grabbed by his hair, and his head is brought forward, and is forced back so hard that he not only hears his skull crack, he can feel every bit of it do as much.

There are tears sliding down his face from the pain as the pattern repeats, and somewhere he feels hands grab for his dangling feet as his brother cries out for him. It feels like ages before it relents, before it finally pauses in hurting him, but when it does, he takes advantage to speak, to say anything.

"Stop," he struggles to say. "Please stop…"

Slowly, the grip on him begins to lax, still holding him tight, but not in a painful manner. Matthew's pull on him finally gives away, and he's able to bring his brother down from where he's pinned to wall and into his hold, the both of them falling down to the floor. It should be the end of things, but it isn't at the same time.

Alfred isn't able to breathe. There's the subconscious awareness that he's bleeding profusely from multiple gashes and wounds, an ever steady flow of sticky, thick crimson fluid streaming from the back of his head from where it met with the mirror and staining his brother's clothing, but he is too preoccupied with other matters regarding his health. His hearing is fading; he can feel the way Matthew clutches on to him, unable to see him clearly without his glasses, and the shouts that must be coming from his brother to the others is muffled at best, as though his ears have been clogged with cotton and sealed shut, and through it all, he is still unable to catch the slightest bit of air.

He attempts to gulp as much as he can, resembling a fish out of water as bubbles of blood spew out from between his lips. He's wheezing and his vision begins to grow even hazier before it clouds and dims at the edges before spiraling inwards rapidly until it finally all goes black...

**xxx**

*Funny story, I've actually said this before. During my younger years when yours truly messed with this shizz, my friend S bought a Ouija board and I told her that as long as she used a Kosher salt circle, she'd be fine. And she was all, "Does it have to be Kosher?". And honestly I'm still not really sure, but that'd still be my first choice.

-HOMAIGLOB YOU GAIZE! I'm totes sorry for being away for so long! I didn't have my usb for the longest time and yeah not gonna get into that.

-Anyway, holy shizz, you guuuuuuuys! Whatwhatwhat? Alfred! ;A; Why is this happening to you, whyyyy? Everyone! Enter your predictions now! Spoilers: Arthur comes into the plot full-time now! We delve into solving the mystery (as well as finally seeing the summary in the actual story) next update. ;D

-Speaking of the next update, I want to tell each and every one of you HOW MUCH I ABSOLUTELY ADORE AND LOVE YOU ALL. Srsly, guys, the whole thing with the anon (who I still haven't heard from guess they're not gonna come clean or whatever) and all of you being supportive, I can't. You guys give me so many happy feels, their indescribable. :D

-So yeah, working on the next update, hoping to get that out to you guys soon you all deserve it because you're all just so frickin beautiful and shiny and I love each and every one of you. ^-^

-Oh, and if you guys that reviewed the a/n want to leave a review for the real chapter, you're gonna have to do it anonymously because I think there's still that thing were account holders can only leave one review per chapter. :/ I'll reply if you have an account though, I'll send a PM just lemme know about it.

**xxx**

A lot of love to you nonnies out there, I'm sorry I didn't thank each one of you, I really just wanted to post this as quick as I could, but THANK YOU for being so patient and reviewing the fic and just know I LOVE YOU ALL. :3


	9. Chapter 9

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><strong>Chapter 9  
><strong>xxx<strong>

The waiting section of the hospital's Emergency Room has changed greatly from the last time Matthew had the pleasure of a visit.

Though he had just reached seven years of age, he is able to recall how it once stood; the paled yellow walls and contrasting bubblegum pink borders, the patches of beige linoleum and matted grey carpet, the sharp edges of the nurse's station, and standing out vividly in his mind were the chairs. The cheap aluminum based seating that slid on the linoleum whenever the occupier moved the slightest bit, the flimsy black padding that was often pressed thinly and offered no support whatsoever. He remembers his feet unable to touch the floor and how he swung them back and forth as a form of entertainment. He remembers complaining to Alfred about having to sit for so long. He remembers Alfred complaining to the social workers on behalf of them both because he would not say a thing. He remembers their replies and apologies, how there simply was not anything they could do until the fate of their parents was finally revealed.

It's different now. The walls have been repainted a warm almond color with dark brown trim, the floors are now polished white tile, the front desk is elongated and curved, there are paintings of flowers and flourished country sides accompanied with a large aquarium kept to one wall oddly enough, and the seating has been exchanged for plush wooden chairs with actual arm rests. Perhaps the most notable difference, however, is the atmosphere. While the circumstances had been grim in the situation before, being so young and in the company of his brother had kept any unease and fear at bay by the simplicity of a child's mind until all that had transpired was explained to them clearly, and now far older and having borne witness to recent events, Matthew is able to experience the full on anxiety of how it feels to be one waiting for news after being told that he is not allowed in the back just yet, his brother is in extreme critical condition, he will only be more hindrance than help.

His hand clenches at the edge of the arm rest, his knuckles going white by the sheer force of his grip that threatens to crack the wood underneath. A hand comes to rest upon his own, a comforting gesture provided by Eliza who sits beside him, covered in minor scratches from where shards of glass had hit against her face and dried tracks staining down her cheeks from the few tears that fell. He looks to her and wonders if his own appearance is any similar; he had raised his arms to protect himself from the downpour of the broken mirror on initial impact, but he can feel his hair matting to his scalp from sweat caused by adrenaline and mixing with the bit of Alfred's blood that had splattered that high onto him.

Matthew snaps his eyes away from Eliza and focuses down on himself. He's still dressed in clothing stained with his brother's blood, his hands and arms have been washed clean but there, just there, Matthew swears he is able to see a smidgen of it right there underneath his fingernails and he feels his throat begin to constrict. He takes a deep breath, moves his hand to clasp into Eliza's, squeezes into hers, and closes his eyes to calm himself. He knows for certain that he too has dried tears littering the sides of his face and has no wish to amplify the matter.

Suddenly, in the midst of their waiting, the automatic doors leading into the back open, and instantly thinking it to be someone finally coming to inform them of his brother's status, they leap from their seats. To their surprise, it happens to be Gilbert walking through the portal and approaches them, weary looking and his chin discolored with purples and blues. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he slowly makes his way towards them, saying absolutely nothing and is more than just uncharacteristically quiet.

"How's Lovino?" Eliza asks almost immediately.

Gilbert frees his right hand from the confines on his pocket and uses it rub at his chin, wincing the whole while. He's apparently forgotten about the large bruise that has blossomed there from where it met impact with Eliza's frying pan. He drops the gesture, his hand falls listlessly to his side and his shoulders sag simultaneously.

"He's awake," he says finally. "They say that there doesn't seem to be anything too bad, but they want to keep him overnight just in case. Right now he's just having a bro moment with Feli, thought I'd leave them to it."

He side steps around them, and without saying anything more he drops himself into one of the chairs. Eliza moves to sit next to him first, followed by Matthew, and once they have retaken their seats, the three of them sit in perfect silence.

"I'm sorry for hitting you with the frying pan, by the way," Eliza says to Gilbert after a moment passes. "I didn't mean to."

"Don't pretend you didn't want to," he replies a little more light-heartily.

"I didn't say I didn't want to, I said I didn't mean to," she corrects. "No, hitting someone with a pan is something you save for a good time. Really bad timing on my part."

Gilbert only waves the apology off, acting as though being hit is in no way as big of a deal as Eliza makes it out to be, and in retrospect, when considering the injuries others find themselves facing, it is very much the case. Still, Eliza's attempt at making him feel more relaxed in their company seems to work, and while Matthew watches the two murmur amongst themselves and even break into a smile however small, it causes him to feel slightly irritated over being forced to sit next to them while his own worries are still high.

He thinks to himself that this is surely some form of retribution for being naive and unaware so many years ago and sinks further back into his seat.

The time passes, and eventually, the automatic doors open once more, revealing one of the nurses, mousy looking with a bob of blonde hair and in a pair of loose fitting pink scrubs carrying a chart. She scans the room briefly before settling on the three of them and begins to walk in their direction. The very sight of her doing so causes Matthew to leap up from his chair, both Eliza and Gilbert follow suit at a slower pace.

She comes to a gradual stop in front of them, looking rather timid with her eyes darting back and forth at each of them, and after clearing her gently clearing her throat, she begins to speak.

"Um, you're the ones who came in with..." She trails off to scan the chart in her hands for a name, but Matthew doesn't mind to cut her off.

"Alfred Kirkland?" he asks. "Is my brother okay?"

"Oh, yes," she answers quickly. "He's just been wheeled out of surgery and is now in ICU, but he's perfectly stable and is going to make a full recovery, but it will take some time."

"What was he in surgery for?"

"Well, the blow to the back of his head was very severe, it needed to be repaired. There was also some other minor complications, and there were many shards of glass to be removed. Actually, there are some treatments the doctor would like to put in to fight off what looks like to be the beginning of an infection. Um, is he allergic to penicillin?"

She asks the trio in general, though Eliza and Gilbert stare at him, not knowing anything themselves obviously, and Matthew flushes. He doesn't know either.

"Um... I don't know," he confesses and feels something troubling settle in the bottom of his stomach.

"That's okay," she says. "It's just faster to ask, we can do a test..." She pauses again to scan her chart for notes. "Are you aware of any other allergies to medications? Is he taking anything now, or even in the past?"

"He wasn't on anything when we were kids. But.. I don't know if there's been anything recent.."

That feeling grows, seeping into every nook and cranny inside of him and festers the intense emotion of being useless in this situation. He's feels pitiful, as though finally coming to the realization of being worthless to his brother in solving his problems. If he isn't able to provide even the simplest of information for Alfred, how could he possibly be of any help in matters far beyond their comprehension? The weight of guilt falls on his shoulders heavily for the first time that evening, even as the nurse continues on with her questioning.

"Okay then, um... oh, insurance. Is he covered under any form of private insurance or government aid?"

"I-I don't know."

"He's covered under mine."

A new voice calls out to them from afar. It not only has the nurse dart her eyes to stare behind Matthew, but has their three heads turn sharply, even spin around completely. What greets them is the sight of someone familiar, someone they should have anticipated in the long run. Marching towards them, in a hastily thrown together outfit of dark brown slacks paired with a red and green plaid sweater beneath a grey macintosh coat, is Arthur. His mouth is pulled downwards into the longest frown Matthew has ever seen, and his massive eyebrows are drawn together so close they look as if they are one. Both Eliza and Gilbert stumble out of his way, their instincts protecting them from being in the center of his dangerous aura while Matthew can only remain stock still, completely frozen in his spot with eyes wide and jaw slacked.

As Arthur slows his pace, he halts directly in front of Matthew, glaring up at him in a way that makes him feel all of ten years old again. Matthew darts his eyes off to the side and awaits whatever is to come. What he receives is Arthur breathing out heavily and in a hushed tone asks, "What in bleeding hell have you done?"

To this, Matthew is still unable to answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again and again, until Arthur finally waves him off and gives his attention to the nurse watching the scene with a cautious eye.

"I'm sorry, miss," he says. "Forgive the sudden intrusion, as well as the impoliteness. I'm afraid it's a combination of how my brothers have been acting foolish and didn't feel the need to tell me one of them has been put in hospital."

The nurse's expression changes instantly, with a few blinks and an understanding nod before throwing a rather disappointed glance in Matthew's direction that surprises him on some level.

"There's just a few questions I needed answering before going back in to help the doctor," she tells Arthur. "There's also the insurance information that needs to be handled."

"Of course. Actually, there should already be something in the computer data bases here. Our coverage is something private with the hospital that was begun by my mother and I've been paying into in since I've come of age."

"Oh, that'll make processing much easier. If you'll follow me, we can update your brother's charts instantly."

She gestures slightly to the front desk on the opposite side of the room, and Arthur's nod of approval, she begins to walk in the direction. Before following after her however, Arthur rounds on the three that have been watching the back and forth quietly and quickly puts them into place.

"I'll deal with the three of you when I get back," he hisses at them. "Sit down, and don't move."

He walks off without so much as another word and leaves all of them to do just that. They quickly take their seats, even sit upright properly until they become uncomfortable enough to start slouching. At least Gilbert does, Eliza leans forward slightly in her seat, though Matthew remains just the same.

"So," Gilbert starts, "who else felt like they were a five year old?"

"Oh, god, I know," Eliza agrees. "How the hell can he do that? He's like only five years older than me."

"He's three years older than me, how do you think I feel?"

"It's the many, many years of acting like a parent probably," says Matthew. He finally succumbs to the strain on his posture and falls forward, elbows on knees and rests his chin into his hands. "I'm gonna get yelled at. I'm gonna get yelled at and I totally deserve it because this was all my fault."

"Hey, hey," Eliza says to him. She wraps and arm around his shoulder and comforts him the best she can. "It'll be okay, none of this was your fault."

"It should be. No, it really should be... How did I let this happen?"

"You didn't. None of us knew that it was going to end up like this."

"But I just keep thinking. On things that could have been differently. On things that maybe should have been said earlier. For not trying to help him out sooner so that it wouldn't end up like this-"

"But it did, Matthew, it did. And there's no point in thinking about _what if's_ because they don't matter. It happened. What we need to focus on now, is how to take it from here."

Eliza's choice words of wisdom put his worries at ease for the time being and all seems right between them. At least until Gilbert opens his mouth to say, "That's probably the smartest thing I've ever heard you say, Liz, not gonna lie, I am surprised."

Her teeth grit, but she allows the jab to slide, either too tired to retort or just done with petty squabbles for the time being due to the severity of their predicament. They wait quietly and patiently for Arthur's return. Though when he does, despite the mutual passing thought unknowingly shared between them three over how much they are not looking forward to anything he may have to say, each of them sits up and waits for him to speak.

Arthur for his part, begins with saying nothing. He crosses his arms in front of him, stares down each one of them to a point where no eye contact is able to be made out of a sense of shame. His words are not exactly quiet, but they sound harsh. As though everything around them has gone deathly quiet and the only sound to contrast against the feeling is him repeating what he has asked before.

"What did you do?"

"How did you find us?" Matthew asks instead of giving Arthur an answer to his own question.

"I had some fairy friends track you down for me," he replies sarcastically and moves his hands to his hips. He clearly is not in the mood

"You can do that?" Gilbert asks and Eliza sighs next to him. "What? After all the shit that just happened, I can fucking believe anything at this point."

"How inspiring," Arthur slights and turns his focus to only Matthew. "Did you really think I couldn't tell you were lying, you and Alfred are both horrible at doing such. I've been keeping track of where you've been on the GPS in your phone and I rather don't appreciate finding you in the location of a hospital when I go to check your coordinates for the final time."

"You're tracking his every move?" Gilbert asks, again, although this time, Eliza silently agrees with the point being made. "Creeper."

Arthur bristles at the insult. "The option to use it comes with the family plan, I didn't go out of my way to have it installed." He brushes Gilbert off as he did before and returns to Matthew. "Now then, what did you do?"

It takes a long while before Matthew is able to confess everything, and that's only with Eliza's encouragement to refrain from becoming tongue tied as he recounts all that has happened. By the time he comes to the end of his tale, he chances a look at Arthur, only to see his brother's face set colder and stonier than he's ever seen before, including the night Alfred left home. He ducks his head and he waits.

"How stupid are you? All of you?" With this Arthur addresses the three of them, causing Gilbert and Eliza to avoid eye contact. "And not only for consulting with an under-taught amateur, nor for even thinking that you have the capabilities and understanding of what this could possibly be, but for ignoring every little warning about sticking your nose into something that was none of your concern to start off. How could you possibly think using that board would have no consequences?!"

Again, Matthew struggles slightly to speak. He doesn't know what he could possibly say to lessen his fault, and in the end, he's left with what he obviously believed then.

"It was just for a few laughs," he says while staring at the blood splattered on his clothing. "We figured it was just another stupid game."

It's not good enough for Arthur, whose keen observation takes in each injury inflicting them and the state of their appearance as he shakes his head.

"And look where your laughs have brought you," he says. "Look at the state your brother is in, and tell me it's _just another stupid game_."

"Well that's what we thought it was. We didn't think any of this was going to happen because of it. It's not like it was ever real before!"

"How can you say that?! You grew up with this around you!"

"We didn't believed it!"

Matthew's words are louder than intended and it causes the entirety of the room to look over in their direction. Eliza takes the initiative to tell them all to get back to their own business as Arthur and Matthew have a bit of a stare-down, their mouths set in straight lines until Matthew finally explains himself further.

"All of this-this... whatever the hell this is, all of it, we never did believe any of it. Even if we did listen to the things you would tell us about keeping safe, or about how we should do certain things to not offend anything or whatever, but we never did believe it, Arthur. It was always, '_Oh, Arthur's going down to the basement to do his weird D&D magic_' or '_Oh, Arthur's going on about his ghost things, whatever that is_'. We didn't think it was real. Or at least not like this."

Arthur does not respond quickly. He takes his time in forming a reply that keeps Matthew on edge and everyone else in their party for that matter that all ears are open and listening intently as he finally comes to say, "You may not have believed it before, Matthew, but you cannot say the same for Alfred. There is, after all, a reason why he is so afraid of ghosts as well as other things."

With that he takes a step back and turns back towards the exit, begins to walk away without so much as another word. It takes only a shared exchange of glances before the three of them take off after him, Matthew calling out his name even after passing through the automatic doors and into the parking lot.

"Where are you going?!" he asks. "Arthur!"

It isn't until the group reaches Arthur's car that he even bothers to address him, and when he does, it's not really what any of them are expecting to hear.

"I'm going home," he tells them, and at Matthew he says, "You're free to come with me if you'd like."

Matthew is taken by surprise the most. "But Alfred-!"

"Is in intensive care, and is not allowed visitors at the moment." The driver's side door is unlocked, and Arthur opens it for himself. "The earliest I'm going to be allowed inside is tomorrow afternoon, I can't do anything else here and I have things to prepare in the mean time."

"Do you know what this is?" Eliza asks him. "This ghost demon thing whatever that's been giving us problems."

"Giving Alfred problems," Arthur corrects her with a slight glare. "The only reason it attacked any of you is because none of you were smart enough to keep out of things of which you have no knowledge. And no, not exactly, but I have an inkling. Matthew, if you want to help me with your brother I could use the information, but you need to come with me now."

Matthew accepts the invitation without any hesitation, moves to the passenger side of the car and even tries the handle before his door is unlocked. The invitation however, has been extended to Matthew and only Matthew, and it's only made the more clear when Eliza asks, "What about us?"

"You lot have done enough," Arthur replies. "There's nothing left for you."

"That's not fair!" she shouts. She's ready to make a further argument, ready to go into all the ways her and the rest of them have sacrificed themselves for their friend just when Arthur unleashes what can only be pent up frustration.

"Not fair?!" he shouts back. "What isn't fair? Tell me, Eliza, because as someone who has given eleven years to raising two half-brothers starting from the age of twenty, when having no prior connections and certainly no obligations to doing so, only to have them leave the one person who is able to not just help but solve whatever the hell is happening out of it because of some stupid hissy fit that had no right to be thrown in the first place, _and_ to have to find out of a hospitalization through a GPS tracker, I think I have the upper hand on being treated unfairly. Matthew, get in the car, there's a lot to be done."

He doesn't bother with any more than that. Arthur slides into the driver's seat and unlocks Matthew's door, prompting him to enter the vehicle with nothing more than an apologizing look towards Gilbert and Eliza. The car starts up, and the two remaining in the lot need to back away for them to leave properly without so much as wave goodbye.

And while both Matthew and Arthur make their way home from the hospital, tucked away in his thin sheets of his bed, Alfred rests easy for the first time in a long time. His body is entirely exhausted, broken, bruised, and in the process of being healed. He hasn't regain full consciousness, though he has some semblance of being as he lays still with his eyes closed. He feels warm and he feels comfortable, slightly aware that such is because of the anesthesia having yet to wear off completely and whatever medications they've injected into him. He's content to be where he is, despite the reasons why he has ended up in such a place, and he embraces the chance to sleep without any prowling demons coming to pray on him.

At least, he feels safe. For some reason, perhaps by a pattern that has been unconsciously recorded, Alfred recalls not feeling any disturbing presences nearby the first night he had spent at Feliciano's, and maybe the reason being is because the spirit isn't able to track him right away. Perhaps, not even at all, now that the scarf has been left at Toris' home and is nowhere near him, there may be the chance that there is no way for him to be tracked and stalked at all! He certainly hopes so, and wishes as much as he falls back into full sleep.

However, when he regains full consciousness, waking again when the hospital is at it's stillest and with too heavy eyelids that do not lift past a fraction, he senses something is wrong. It causes the monitor recording his heartbeat to quicken and beep a little faster, and he does his best to huddle within himself to shy away from the cold seeping through the blankets. He tries to calm himself, wills himself to believe that feeling of security once more, but it's all for naught.

His breathing quickens, as does the beating inside his chest despite the machine now reading normally, and the lights begin to dim. He breathes in heavily through his nose, releases it with a shudder and darts his eyes towards the open doorway of his room to the best of his abilities in hopes of calling a passing nurse or anybody, honestly. Before he's able to do so, all at once, something heavy rests just to the side of him, dipping the mattress inwards while purring deeply and buries itself into his side.

Alfred stills, afraid to do anything, even just making a simple sound. He holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut. There isn't much he can do in the state he's in, there's no chance of fighting which can only mean that he must succumb entirely to the demon's will. So he waits for whatever is to come, fear and anticipation filling him and heightening his senses. Though the more the he stays still, the more he comes to realize that nothing is happening. Confused, he pays attention and finds that the demon has been holding his hand and every now and again, it'll nuzzle against the top of his shoulder, quite affectionately, not unlike a cat, and a sudden epiphany dawns on him.

"Are you..." Alfred begins quietly with a frail sounding tone that still cracks. "...apologizing?"

The nuzzling increases, and there's even a whimper. He isn't able to see it, he can only feel and hear, but the hold on his hand is more comforting than it should be, and everything adds up to this being the truth. It leaves him feeling cold and ill, nausea boils in his belly and he feels as though he may cry.

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" he whispers. "This is completely normal for you.. and there's nothing I can do... you're just going to stay, aren't you? I'm just.. gonna have to live with you, huh?"

It's entire body presses closer, and the hand holding his own begins to move higher, stroking upwards against his skin in the gentlest manner. It startles Alfred, causes him to flinch unintentionally and call out for it all to cease.

"Wait." The movement stops and all goes quiet. Alfred wets his lips, and quiet shakily begins to speak again. "You don't like Toris."

There's a low growl. An affirmation to the statement.

"Yeah... and you have an issue with my brother, and with my friends, for trying to get rid of you." The growling begins again, though this time Alfred is quick to hush the sound. "No, no, listen... Listen... If there really is now way out of this.. if this is really forever.."

He struggles with saying what he wants next. It's almost as if he would rather not make the sacrifice, and to be frank, it is the truth. He isn't sure what makes him feel sicker, the upcoming proposal or the reality of his feelings. In any case, he takes as deep of a breath as he can in order to continue.

"I'll let you have me." He gulps back to keep the rise of bile down. "I'll let you have me.. if.. if you swear to leave my friends, my brother, leave them alone.. leave them alone.. and that bond.. whatever Toris did.. I want it broken. I don't want him to be involved anymore. I want to break the bond.. and I want you to leave him alone.. I'll let you have me. All of me. If I can have that."

A great sense of approval emanates from the being next to him, and the hold that's made it's way up to his wrist tightens and Alfred can feel hot breath puffing onto his neck in heady anticipation.

"But not now!" That growl returns. "I'm sorry.. but right now I don't think I can handle it right now.. Let me get better. At least a little bit.. And you can do whatever you want to me then."

Slowly, as if giving it's own consent, the extra weight begins to lift away, eventually leaving Alfred alone again. As for Alfred, he shudders and clutches at his blankets, stifles a sob and does the best he can to calm himself down. It takes him a long while before he's able to stop shaking, and as hospital begin the come back to life with staff walking about and passing his room more frequently, he thinks that he may be well enough to fall back asleep. He tries, and in time, he's able to drift off somehow.

He sleeps as easily as one can when just having made a deal with the devil.

**xxx**

-Sometimes guys, I don't even know how I'm the same person who wrote Patchwork, this is a complete 180 of a ghost story than what that was... taking longer to complete too..

-Anyway, it's not too creepy, and I cut some things out to be included in the next chapter which might be a little hella longish but it could possibly include some smexing time which I know a great deal of you are waiting for. And that's okay. You can admit that to me. I'm the same way a lot of the time. We are all friends here. :D

-But yeah, it's late here and I haven't been resting well. I'm going to try to get some normal zz's and I'll see all of you lovelies later. So stay shiny, stay safe, happy new year everyone! -xoxo-

**xxx**

Nonnie Love:

Guest 1: Ahhh thankies! I glad you like it so much and I hope you like the remaining chapters. ^-^

BlueAlert: Don't worry! Toris is fine! I can say that much, he's alive and... he's alive. :D

Fynniona: Honestly, I think Alfred got the worse off, but I feel a bit more for Toris because it's the second time and just whoa. 0.0 Well, as you can see, Ivan doesn't hate Alfie, it was just... an extreme and very dangerous temper tantrum.

BlackWitchesCat: Next chapter is going to be mostly dealing with Arthur and Matthew talking to people to find out things like the whole situation that happened with Natalya and we get to see what the fight was about between Arthur and Alfred! :D I think... I need to look at the outline again, but I think that's what happens.

Guest 2: Thank you! ^-^ I hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as you have. It's my pleasure to write and share with all you wonderful people.

Hyperkaoru: Homg, I know it was really bloody! Poor Alfred and everyone else too! D: But yeah, Ivan was really hurt. Not that that should make it okay for what he did though. DX

Guest 3: I tried my best! I hope it was soon enough.

Mina: Yes, yes, Toris is still alive. In some pretty bad shape, but he's doing well enough and we'll see him again next chapter. Some mystery solving was supposed to happen but I didn't want to bring out another super super long chapter so it got cut out for the next chapter. D:


	10. Chapter 10

**xxx  
><strong>Chapter 10  
><strong>xxx<strong>

There's something strange about bearing witness to this sort of ritual. For so many years, the words Arthur has spoken to them of otherworldly beings and precautions have been a continuous running gag between Matthew and his brother that now, in the midst of his own home, he sits patiently by Arthur's side and is quite put-off by watching things they once mocked become a different form of truth he is forced to accept.

Of course, recent events have more to do with that then the tinkering his half-brother does next to him.

It's quiet in the basement as Arthur does his work. It has been between both him and Matthew since the scene made in the hospital's parking lot the night before. Though for some reason, Matthew feels more stifled by the silence now in the confines of stone and aging wood than he had minutes before at breakfast; as though the dim surroundings mix ominously with the actions being performed right in front of him.

He's not quite sure what to make of it, nor does he particularly understand what is happening. To him, it seems Arthur does little more than spoon powders from jars lining the walls onto a slab of stone, one by one until he collects a rather impressive mound he then crushes together with a pedestal to make it all even finer, but somewhere along the line there is something happening that makes this special. He isn't sure what exactly, but he's more than willing to believe if for the sake of his twin.

"What are those?" he asks when from a jar kept unlabeled, Arthur brings out brittle black objects in the shape of leaves.

He receives no answer,not even so much as an acknowledgement from his brother. So, as Arthur goes about his business, Matthew finally tears himself away from the work station and allows his eyes to wander the room.

Something has changed since yesterday. He isn't certain as to what it is, but he knows there is something wrong with the room. It causes a frown to tug at his lips and the frustration of not being able to put his finger on the difference begins to settle inside him.

"It's the circle," Arthur says suddenly.

The sound of his voice cutting through the silence startles Matthew and has him jump in his seat, twisting himself around once more to face the other as he continues on with his work.

"I had to break it down after the mess you made of it," he continues. "Not exactly the neatest detective work, I would say."

Matthew instantly feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment; he must have been too much in hurry to notice where his steps landed during his escape. Rather than reply to the observation, he looks away again, turning his attention to a tall, clear bottle of bubbling red liquid. He instantly comes to the conclusion of not wanting to know what it is contained inside.

"Reach into that drawer there," Arthur tells him. "The one right beside you on the left, and bring out a single piece of the white cloth inside. And a bit of the purple ribbon."

Matthew follows the commands without hesitation. The drawer slides open easily and inside he finds an abundance of different colored cloths folded into neat piles, one right next to another, and off to the side is a tangle of different colored ribbons and yarns that are kept in a manner quite differently than the other items. He takes only a brief moment to contemplate the reasons behind this, but shrugs it off entirely in order to complete the task given to him.

The piece of cloth is picked out of the lot and handed over easily enough, but when it comes time to do the same for ribbon, it proves to be a bit more difficult. A particular set of matted red, blue, and purple strands are knotted together, forcing him to dig into it with tooth and nail to break them apart.

"Is this really necessary?" he asks. "To have them like this? Because-"

"Yes, Matthew, it is," Arthur interrupts. "And I don't really feel as though it is _necessary_ to explain the reasoning behind _that_, so if you would please?"

Matthew doesn't bother to give the response anything more than an eyeroll as he tugs out another tight knot loose and hands over the purple ribbon. Arthur takes it without so much as a thank you and a particularly large frown marring his face. He moves quickly in scooping the ingredients from the slab of stone and spreading them in the very center of the cloth and folds it neatly into a small bag he ties off with the ribbon.

Arthur stays still after it's completed. He stares at the small bundle with a mixture of resignation and concern, and before Matthew has the chance to question any of it, he picks it up gently and rises from his seat. Arthur cradles it in his arms as he leaves his work station and walks back up the stairs into their home.

Matthew remains sitting even after Arthur opens the door and leaves through it back into the kitchen. He slowly shifts off from his seat and follows after with his eyes on the floor. Though there is no longer any chalk markings to be ruined, it's now ingrained in him to be wary all the same. He trots up the stairs and shuts the door behind him, looks for his older brother and does not see him.

"Arthur?" he calls, and he begins to wonder if he's already left the house in a rush for the hospital. He huffs at the thought of being forgotten and left behind as he makes for the hallway, but luckily enough he catches sight of Arthur through the window behind the table.

He approaches slowly, leans against one of the chairs surrounding the table, and peers through the panes. Arthur remains standing still in the middle of his garden. Their backyard consists of plants and flowers that have always seemed conventional and unconventional at the same time; roses, daisies, rosemary, thyme, nettles, witch hazel, lamb's ear, and the like, all planted by Arthur's mother and kept by him. He stands there, in the center of it all, and Matthew watches with bated breath as he lifts his arms and presents the little satchel to the warmth of the sun in open palms.

Matthew won't pretend to know exactly to what it is he's seeing, but through the many years of being taught superstitions and everything of the sort, he's knows well enough that whatever part of whatever ritual he's performing it must be of some kind of importance and leaves him alone. He pulls out the chair he leans on and waits. He makes no comment as to how long he is left to do so as Arthur re-enters the house, pocketing the small satchel into his slacks and it prompts the silence from before to envelope them again.

Even in the car, on their way to visit Alfred, the still quiet remains until Matthew begins to realize that the route they are travelling on does not lead to the hospital. The direction Arthur drives, is completely off route, but entirely familiar. Still it prompts him to question the obvious to begin the conversation.

"We're not going to the hospital, are we?" he asks.

Arthur replies a beat later, and with a simple, "Not yet."

Matthew stares at him, but such an action does not prompt anything more from the other and he resigns himself to sitting back into his seat as they continue on their way to Toris' home.

As they pull into the driveway, the surrounding area feels different than just yesterday. Matthew immediately chalks it up to the horrifying events that transpired just hours ago and he isn't quite sure what to make of it now. Especially when coming to exit the vehicle and the troubling emotion rolling in the pit of his stomach intensifies. He looks to Arthur and finds that he too is effected. He can see Arthur clench his fists at his sides and his jaw clench. There's an overall sense of hostility that surrounds him and it startles Matthew to realize such.

He's not sure how long he stands there watching his half-brother continuously go through the motions of tensing and relaxing again and again until he finally inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It's only then that Arthur finally regains some semblance of control, as far as Matthew is able to tell, and looks as composed as he does normally.

"Matthew," he calls, "Matthew, how are you feeling?"

"How am I-? I feel fine, I guess."

Which is close to the truth; watching Arthur's odd sort of dilemma has kept the uncomfortable feeling throbbing inside of him at the back of his mind. Now though, with that bit of display gone, he's able to feel it again and with the way Arthur watches him, he's beginning to think that it shows.

"I'm fine," he repeats. "Really."

"You're certain?" Arthur pesters.

Matthew again, assures him that yes, he is absolutely fine, and the lie almost grows too intense to bear. It's as if it causes not only the uncomfortable tightness in his abdomen to intensify - the small bought of feeling something nauseous growing into something more painful, like a tight squeeze crushing his rib cage together to the point where he feels as though they may snap while at the same time bile threatens to creep up his throat.

"Fine," he manages to says. "All fine."

Arthur doesn't bite. His arms comes to cross across his chest, his stance turns into something defensive and in a slightly condescending tone he asks again, "Really?"

This in turn has Matthew snap.

"Yes! For fuck's sake, Arthur, I'm fucking fine!"

The minute the words leave his mouth, Matthew is brought down to his knees. He falls onto his hands and dry heaves as a nasty sweat begins to break out all over his skin.

"Listen to me." He brings a hand to rest behind Matthew's head. "Matthew, listen to me and do exactly as I say, I want you to take a deep breath. Do you hear me? Take a deep breath, yes, like that, good. Now then, concentrate on good things, preferably ones that involve Toris or anyone else that may live in this house."

He does what he's told, inhales sharply and exhales the same way while trying to tame his thoughts. It takes some time, but eventually the illness passes him and he's able to stand again with Arthur's help. His breathing still feels shallow, and there's a slow burn building in his belly, as if it were just another typical stomach ache.

"What just happened?" he asks.

"Toris must have put something up," says Arthur. "Something to keep him safe. Keep anything wanting to hurt him away."

It makes sense, but at the same time...

"So why us? Why attack us?"

"Don't be daft, nothing attacked us, it's our own doing."

Before he's able to question his words, Arthur turns to him with a grave expression. There is nothing but sincerity in his voice when he says, "Admit that you too are angry with him for not being able to provide better protection for your brother, and you'll find that your health will benefit from it greatly."

Matthew is about to deny such a thing, but he hesitates. He feels the impending sense of ill health looming over him should he even _think_ of denying such feelings. Perhaps, he can confess to himself at least, he had hoped for a better outcome, and did, in a way, lay _some_ of the blame on Toris. For being so full of promise, and for failing. Maybe even at Feliks for not being at the hospital with them, as petty as that sounds...

He's not able to dwell much on the sudden influx of emotions and buried feelings towards his friends as Arthur leaves his side for the front door. The first step feels too heavy to be natural but Matthew preservers all the same. Arthur reaches the door first and knocks as he comes to stand behind him.

It takes another round of knocking and an attempt at the doorbell before their call is answered.

Feliks pulls the door open, looking as if he hasn't slept all night, quite haggard in a pair of jeans and an old worn out shirt. Which is probably the truth, as Matthew remembers that not only his brother was harmed. Any anger or resentment that could have been hiding away in the depths of himself is brushed off and a tremendous feeling of guilt resides heavy at the bottom of his stomach. He can't believe he was honestly being so selfish.

His brows furrow only the slightest bit at the sight of the two on his doorstep, but whatever it is that crosses his mind is ignore with the quiet greeting of a simple, "Hey."

"How are you guys doing?" The question slips out of Matthew like nothing.

Arthur begins to tap his foot, growing impatient, but Feliks takes the opportunity to lean up against the door frame and runs a hand through his hair.

"I was able to clean up a lot while Toris slept. The other two completely bailed on me, Raivis doesn't even wanna come home anymore but whatever. Mostly I've just been like, watching over him and stuff. He's not bleeding too much or anything anymore so that's like really good."

It doesn't ease too much, but hearing that his friend is on the mend is able to put a small smile on his face. "That's good."

Feliks only shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. But anyway, he totally told me to let you guys in, so..."

This admission seems to surprise Arthur, as he asks, "He knew we were coming?"

Moving away from the door, Feliks steps back to give them a wide enough berth to enter the house. He does so while saying, "I don't think so, but when you guys were knocking on the door like the police or something he just like, told me to let you in and bring you upstairs."

As if that's all that needs to be said, he steps back even further. It's an even clearer indication to come inside, and Arthur takes it with Matthew following close behind.

The house is eerily quiet and Matthew is reminded on how his own home felt when breaking into Arthur's basement. The rooms are dark despite the hour, and if he looks down the hall, he can see the room they used covered with curtains and spill a fraction of light from beneath them. A creaking calls his attention and he turns to see both Feliks and Arthur start to trek up the staircase. He spares one last glance down the hall before following after.

Feliks leads them up to what he assumes to be Toris' bedroom. He opens the door, and true to his assumption, it is his bedroom, but it's not the first thing he notices.

Matthew almost lets out a sharp gasp, only able to contain it by quickly putting his hand to his mouth. Toris remains still on his stomach, lying like a plank of wood on his own bed and surrounded by little comforts; a pitcher of water, a box of snacks, and an obvious spot of blankets and pillows bunched in the corner of the room where Feliks has set up camp. The sweat pants he wears hang low on his hips, he wears no shirt, and the entirety of his back is bandaged tightly with white gauze that stains red in some places. His eyes have heavy bags and his face is paler than Matthew has every seen before. Yes despite his appearance, he greets his guests with as wide as a smile as he can manage.

It's all he gives to Matthew, and as his eyes turn towards Arthur, a bit of the warmth in his eyes melts away as it's replaced with something harder, more professional.

"Hello, Arthur," he says. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you."

Matthew wonders for a brief moment if he should interfere in anyway; if he should try to deter the conversation to a topic that could prove less hostile such as his own well being. He takes to long in making his decision, all the same.

"Yes, well, first and foremost," says Arthur, "I came for my books."

Toris looks to Feliks and with a slight nod the other leaves his bedside and makes his way for the bookcase nearby. Matthew does not miss the the disgusted looking sneer Feliks makes before picking up what could only be the two volumes wrapped in a swatch of purple suede. He quickly hands them over to Arthur, who in turn shows his thanks with a nod of his own.

"Thank you for taking care with them," he says

"Once I realized what they were really made from I had Feliks wrap them for me."

There's no hiding the shiver of disgust that passes through Feliks and Matthew catches it from the corner of his eye. He has to ask. "What.. What are they made from?"

There is, however, no hesitation as Arthur answers. "Human flesh."

The color drains from his face. "I touched them!"

"Well let that be a lesson for you to keep out of my things!"

"Why do you have books made out of people?! What the fuck?! Are you like Hannibal now?!"

"They're old books, Matthew," Toris interrupts. "Arthur didn't skin anyone."

"How the hell do you even know what they're made out of?" He isn't too excited anymore, but the idea that someone as docile looking as Toris would have knowledge over something as gruesome as knowing when something is made form human flesh is unsettling at best.

"Are you seriously going to ask that after everything I told you guys last night?"

It's a valid question and keeps Matthew from saying anything further. Arthur, however, takes advantage of his half-brother's silence and picks up the conversation.

"Speaking of last night," he begins, and Toris averts his eyes downwards, almost looking slightly ashamed, "I would like to know what exactly it was that happened."

"I'm sorry," Toris says instantly. "I didn't intend for anything like that this to happen. I really did want the best to come out of this."

Matthew takes a chance to look at Arthur, only to find his expression to be softer than he anticipated. He shows nothing, but the lines of his face are not as hard as they were at the hospital last night, and it's honestly a bit surprising.

"I understand that," he replies. "And by the looks of things, you've already paid for your actions, so there isn't any reason for me to say anything else on that matter. Though I would like to ask what made you believe you'd be able to host such an event."

"I'm- I'm not completely in the stupid about any of this. I've done things before, once before, I know my way around the other planes, I know holidays, and ceremonies, and traditions, and superstitions, and origins, I do know them."

His words are defensive, and sharpness in his eyes tell that he does not speak lies. Still, once before, and even without knowing the same failed outcome of that event, it's not enough experience, and Arthur is sure to tell him. Though Toris already knows.

He clutches at the blanket bunched underneath, the muscles in his back flex and it causes some obvious discomfort if the sudden grimace that crosses his face is any indication. Arthur tucks his books underneath his arm and approaches him. Matthew stands still beside Feliks, and like the other blond, watches the older man's movements with great focus. He kneels beside him, looks over the bandages around his torso and a noticeable frown mars his face.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your wounds?" he asks, and Toris gives him permission.

"I just changed those," Feliks pouts, though no one other than Matthew pays him any mind.

Arthur makes quick work of revealing the wounds wrapped by using a small pair of scissors left on the night stand. Again, Matthew has the hold back any sounds made at the revelation.

Though no longer bleeding profusely, the lines gouged down Toris' back are flushed bright red against his pale complexion. There are still trails of blood falling from the places that were opened too wide and sewn together with makeshift stitches. Matthew sees Feliks' hands twitch and thinks to himself on how he was made to do those stitches, considers himself lucky with how he was able to get his brother into the care of professionals and how Feliks is not so lucky with the panic attacks Toris started to go through with just so much as stepping outside. How he could forget the other shouts and crying that went on in the background of him and Gilbert stuffing Alfred into their car, he doesn't even know.

It makes him feel like even more of an ass, thinking about how they had abandoned Feliks, not the other way around.

While he internalizes all of this, Arthur himself is just as horrified with what he sees. "What on earth did you conjure last night?"

"It isn't what you think," says Toris. "It wasn't something we summoned, but rather something that had been haunting Alfred, and we wanted to find the reason out behind it. We wanted to find out why, so that we could make it stop."

His words still Arthur's observations and has him move to the front of the bed, kneeling before Toris and asking as politely as possible for a clearer explanation. Toris appears a bit apprehensive at first, though eventually he tells Arthur everything.

"Feliks called me yesterday in the morning, said that something was attacking Alfred in his sleep, and that it had dragged him into the bathroom and ripped his shirt off."

Arthur snaps his head back to glare at Matthew and Feliks, demands to know if what Toris says is true and when they both confirm that this has been an ongoing phenomenon, they receive a twisted frown that remains in place as he looks back to Toris and gestures for him to continue.

"I thought that maybe it had to be something just a bit malevolent. I mean, if it was anything too fatal or dangerous, it would have done something right away instead of dragging it out like this, right? So I had them come over, I thought that with precautions we'd be okay, we'd be able to stop whatever, maybe even use a book of yours to expel it... But then I saw what they brought over."

Again, Arthur turns to the two standing by, only this time he focuses only on Matthew. "What did you bring over?"

"It was a box of things left at the thrift store," Matthew tells him. "It was a bunch of candles, some books, some clothes, and a ouija board. We... we played with it the night we got it, and that's when Alfred said it all started so we just, we just brought it over to use since we figured it was connected to that much..."

He's as sheepish as possible when he admits this, but Arthur still looks livid.

"A ouija board?! A used board at that?! How could-? Did you honestly not learn-?"

He cuts himself off constantly, does his best to keep his temper in check and eventually gives his attention back to Toris and asks, "So you conjured a malevolent spirit attached the board, is that what it was?"

"No," says Toris as he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't a ghost, or just some form of spirit, and I think... I don't think it's any kind of normal demonic something."

"What do you mean?" presses Arthur.

"I've encountered this before," he says. "A long time ago, when I was still just a kid. And not just something like this, it was the exact same thing. I know the girl who owned that board before, I know that whatever it is that's attached itself to Alfred is the same one that did the same damn thing to me all those years ago. It doesn't like me."

"Obviously." Arthur stands back up with a clear aura of determination. "The girls who owned all of this before, who is she?"

"Her name was Natalya. Natalya Arlovskaya. She's dead now though."

"Convenient." Arthur says it with some amusement, as though he honestly didn't believe that it would be that easy to track a source. "What about family?"

"Her mother left the family, cut off all ties. Her father's dead too, and her sister's moved. She's the one that told me, we lost touch with each other after she dropped out. I don't know where she is now though."

"What's her sister's name?"

"Katy. Katherine. That's what she goes by, I don't think that's her real name, but it's all I know."

"Better to start there then from nothing."

Feliks steps forward towards the bed. "So is it like cool if I wrap his back up again, I don't like it being out like this when it's still healing and everything."

"Oh, yes," Arthur tells him. "Sorry about that."

Feliks doesn't bother to give him a reply, he only moves quickly enough to gather the supplies he'll need for his task.

"I'm surprised you were able to start healing at this rate," Arthur comments and moves aside for Feliks to replace the bandages with fresh ones.

"Oh my glob, no, like me too," says Feliks. "Because seriously Toris, you were like burning up for forever and an age I was about to call 911 or something."

"How hot was he?" asks Matthew, and to this Feliks shrugs.

"I don't even know, he just completely passed out after I was able to clean up all of the blood and started stitching him up."

"You should have gone to hospital," says Arthur in that same scolding tone he's used over the years with Alfred and Matthew. "Staying here was entirely reckless."

"He gets total major panic attacks sometimes when he walks out," Feliks defends. "It's not his fault."

"Then someone should have been called."

"Hey, at least he's fine now," Matthew interrupts. "And obviously it wasn't that bad if he's like this."

He says it with as much conviction as he can muster, though it appears to have a different effect on Arthur. He turns away and gives both Toris and Feliks a considerate observation, as though he's trying to fit together a puzzle.

"Feliks," he calls. "Just how high was Toris' fever? I don't recall you ever saying."

"Huh?" Feliks pauses mid-wrap to look at Arthur. He blinks at the question and when finally remembering the answer, he says, "Oh my glob, I like so can't even describe it. Like I'm pretty sure if I shoved him in a bathtub it would have filled up like nothing in minutes, he was sweating so much. Actually, it was really gross when I think about it. Huh, guess I was totally just more worried about the blood and all that to care to much or whatever..."

Arthur approaches the bed again and with his curiosity piqued, so does Matthew. As Feliks continues to bandage and wrap his wounds, Arthur bends closer for a more clear examination. His finger travels up and down the angry welts surrounding the deep gashes cross stitched shabbily and quickly to the more shallow ones that are already on the path of being completely healed.

"How much blood was loss?" asks Arthur.

"What does that matter?" Matthew asks in return.

"Humor me," comes the reply, and he looks to Feliks for an answer.

"Okay, so I can't give you like an exact amount, it was literally gushing everywhere," says Feliks. "Like in case you could tell, there's still a lot of blood splotches on the carpet around us."

They both take a gander at the carpet and yes, true to Feliks' word the dark brown color is splotched darker in places where blood has fallen. To Matthew, it seems normal, but as his eyes fall to Arthur, it obvious that something is the matter with how long he takes in giving what should have been a quick look over. He watches Arthur go back and forth between the stains and the wounds that are rapidly being covered.

"You're not weak enough," he finally says, and to whom it's directed is obvious.

"I can't move from the bed right now," says Toris. "I think that's pretty weak."

"No. No, with the fever, as exaggerated as it may have been in description, and this amount of loss blood... No, you are paler than what should be normal, but you are definitely not suffering from it. You look as though you've been properly looks at, given blood transfusions, and IV drip and everything..."

Arthur trails off for the second time and an odd contemplative sort of look crosses his face before it crumples into a grim epiphany. He steps back from Toris, away from Feliks, and even puts space between him and Matthew.

"You bound yourself to Alfred, didn't you?"

Matthew's eyes go from Arthur's accusatory gaze to Toris' guilty aversion. Much like everything else that's happened thus far, he doesn't understand, and he voices as much. He goes unnoticed, unheard. Toris is all eyes on his half-brother, and Arthur remains standing strong, silently demanding a reason to be given to him.

"I was in perfect health when we started," Toris explains. "Alfred was in some pretty bad shape, I thought it would be better for him to go in with a lifeline."

"A binding is not a one-way street!" Arthur's voice grows loud, has them all flinch. "It's no wonder your fever was too high and you almost bled out entirely, the damage Alfred received reflected on you as well, if he hadn't made it- You would be dead by now, do you realize this?! If Alfred was ill looking before you started, already that transferred to you. You do know this is a permanent bond, you cannot reverse this, not even someone of my caliber can reverse this, this is something that could kill you-"

"Yes!" Toris cuts in sharply. "Yes, I know. I know what I did has consequences, but I thought it was for the best, and I took it anyway. I took it so that I could save my friend."

Still, Arthur shakes his head in disbelief. "All of you, all of you just do not understand... You say that you know what

"Yes."

"How do you know."

"My mother. I'm pretty sure that's why she died."

"Who did she bind herself to?"

"That I don't know. She often left the house late at night and would come home in an hour or two, but I never asked and she never told me."

Arthur sighs and steps back one, even goes as far as to run a hand through his hair as he mutters more to himself, "They never do."

He clears his throat, appears to have allowed the anger seep from his own person before addressing Toris once more. "I would like to have whatever it is that was brought here. To keep locked away and examined. I'll need as much as I can gather if I'm to solve any of this."

"Yeah, of course. Feliks will help you with it, right?" Toris turns his head back to see Feliks nod in agreement. Honestly, Matthew thinks at this point, Feliks will do anything Toris asks of him.

"Lemme just finish wrapping you up, and I'll help it take it out," he says. "I'll totally be sleeping better once that crazy shizz is outta my house."

It doesn't take him much longer, and soon enough, Feliks is putting the medical supplies back where they belong and is announcing to them all that he'll show Arthur where everything they brought last night still resides. Before he leaves the room, Arthur calls back to Toris, in both meaning to say goodbye and for one last request.

"Keep a good record of your health, will you? I'd like to monitor it myself and compare it to Alfred's."

He receives a promise from Toris to do so, and even an invitation to return should he need any further information Toris may provide. Arthur thanks him and follows Feliks' lead back down to the lower level, leaving Matthew with Toris alone.

"I'm sorry," he says after a moment passes between them. He means it sincerely, but Toris brushes it off.

"It's not your fault," Toris replies. "I wanted to do this, I know how dangerous it can be, I underestimated what would happen, and this is what I get. If anyone's sorry, I am. Please tell Alfred that when you see him."

Matthew nods, says goodbye and leaves the room. He makes his way down the stairs and instead of following the hallway into the back room, he waits by the door while Arthur collects the box and all of it's items for whatever it is he needs. He's glad that it doesn't take long.

Feliks sees them out the door, both him and Matthew exchange a round of goodbyes and the promises to keep in touch through everything happening as Arthur loads the trunk with the box of things he's collected from the room. It goes unsaid that so long as Toris remains bed ridden, it's clear that Feliks will remain by his side. As of now he's unofficially retired from their group, and Matthew makes the passing comment of this truth after they've left the house and begin the drive over to the hospital.

"Just as well," says Arthur. "The rest of your friends too, I meant what I said, it's best if they all just stay out of this affair. It'll be a lot easier for me to clean up without so many hands in the way."

His argument causes Matthew some exasperation, and he feels the need to defend his friends.

"They can help us," he says. "Somehow, I don't know yet, but they can in some way. I know they would want to."

"I don't doubt their conviction to do so, Matthew, what I doubt is their performance. Outside of Toris, none of you know how to deal with any of this."

"But they will want to help, in any way you tell them, at least keep that in mind."

"Maybe. But again, none of you know how to deal with any of this."

The repeated truth of the statement hits him hard. Even with all their tenacity of how helpful they may wish to be despite their lack of any understanding in this subject that could very well much be a major handicap. At least that's what he thinks. It almost makes him want to break out into a smile; the incredulity of needing to have an expansive amount of knowledge in a subject like this. Who would have known?

The amusement must show through onto his face somehow, as he receives a side eye from Arthur as they drive.

"What? What is it now?"

He's unsure how to explain his thoughts, and in the end he simply tells Arthur what he has just been thinking.

"Nothing. It's nothing, just... All of this was just a joke to us. To me and Alfred, a running gag, none of this was supposed to be real."

"Just because to you, Matthew, some things appear to be unbelievable does not mean they are. I taught you boys the basics of the world I've immersed myself into in the hopes that you'd be more mindful and more respectful. Clearly, that didn't go the way I would have liked." Another side glance. "Keep in mind, however, that just because you cannot see the things I can, does not mean they don't exist. My reality is very different from yours."

The car goes silent once more. There's not a peep between them, not even when finally entering the hospital parking lot.

The sterile scent fills his senses once more upon entering the building, and the only reason he does not feel the same anxiety as he had last night is because he knows that Alfred is in no immediate danger. He figures that with the 24/7 surveillance of all those working in the hospital, all of whom keep an eye on patients, he would be allowed to finally rest and heal. The only excitement he beings to feel when travelling up the elevator to the room their directed to is from finally being able to see Alfred after such a harrowing experience.

They find the room easily enough, and the door is propped open much to his pleasure. He knocks against the door frame and steps into the room, instantly calls Alfred's attention and smiles.

Alfred face lights up when seeing Matthew, but the moment Arthur steps in behind him it crumples into a dark expression that Matthew didn't even think possible to see on his brother's face. He swears something cracks in the air, turns the atmosphere around them heavy and tense. It worries him, even more so when seeing Arthur's matching expression.

With a heavy sigh, he closes the door behind him. Voices will be raised, he just knows it, but he'll do whatever to keep things as private between them for as long as possible.

**xxx**

-I so did not mean to not update for so long I swear on my third Harry Potter book I really didn't I am SO SORRY! ;A;

-And on top of that no smexy times! D:

-Mostly because Alfred wasn't even in this chapter all that much but because we started some mystery solving work. So we'll do a time skip in the next chapter and see what happens then. I mean, it's gonna happen. Like it kinda has to because plot reasons... spoilers.

-But yeah, yay! I am back and I can focus on Lullaby full time again! Hopefully we'll get back into the swing of weekly updates!

-Because we still have a bit to go, we've got some detective work, smut, and more hauntings to happen before it ends.

-So yeah, I will see you lovelies soon. Stay shiny, stay beautiful. -hearts-


	11. Chapter 11

NOTE: so there is smut in this chapter. but, it is dub con, because yes, alfred agreed to go along with this but i'm stressing this now, it's not something that he really wanted to do. and that's how it's written. so yeah.

* * *

><p><strong>xxx<strong>  
>Chapter 11<br>**xxx**

Hospital life, Alfred has come to find, is entirely too predictable.

The nurses come by in regular intervals to check his vitals and ask if he needs anything. Doctors followed by their residents come in even scarcer, giving him information on his health and the progress his is making. He gets the same five basic television channels and there is never anything on other than infomercials. He typically gives up on channel surfing after the fourth round.

Since regaining consciousness everything has been, for lack of a better word, boring. Even the anticipation of night fall and looking to another visit from a demonic entity doesn't get a rise out of him, and honestly, he doesn't know how to feel about that.

He should be more concerned, but after the complete shut down of his fighting spirit the night before, he can't really bring himself to care.

He clicks the television off and sinks back into the pillows piled behind him. Alfred isn't able to contain a long drawn out sigh that is the perfect example of his current status. The only small rescue from the mundane has been the short visit from Gilbert and Eliza hours earlier. It was only a brief catch up, apologies abound and a gift of hospital bought flowers. Even then though, despite his smiles and the easy going conversation (and the blatant display of concern both tried to hide for the sake of normalcy), instead of feeling any kind of happiness he feels almost a bit distressed. As if there had been something off putting present throughout the course of their visit and lingers still after they are long gone.

Even now the too sweet sent of roses and daisies bother him, makes him wrinkle his nose for reasons of which he's not sure.

A small knock calls his attention and has him drop his thoughts. His eyes dart to the door, and for the first time in a long time, he breaks out into a real smile. Matthew is there, looking just as elated and relieved to see him as Alfred feels. He seems to want to run to his bed side, and Alfred would be lying to say it's not something he wants as well, but the bit of joy he feels dies down when seeing another figure from behind Matthew enter the picture and puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

Alfred's smile slips off from his face a little too easily. He can't say say he never considered this person to not get involved eventually. Especially with the nature of what's been happening and landing himself in the hospital. Still, that doesn't mean he has to like or even want Arthur's presence.

Alfred barely registers Matthew closing the door to his room behind him. He's too preoccupied with watching Arthur make his way across the room and even have the audacity to make himself comfortable in a nearby chair. He's made the wise choice of choosing a seat a bit further away from Alfred's bed, it definitely saves him from wanting to shout at him to kindly fuck off and instead makes to simply tell him as much. He's cut off from doing so, however, as Matthew begins to speak.

"Hey, Alfred," he calls and approaches the bed. "How're you feeling?"

Alfred's able to tear away himself away from watching Arthur to give Matthew the attention he deserves.

"Um..."

Except, he doesn't know what to say. He's obviously not fine, even less so with Arthur present. He's not exactly unwell either. That is to say, he is healing and no longer bleeding excessively.

"I'm okay, I guess."

He doesn't know what's wrong with him, he internally cringes at what he's just said. To his ears he sounds too fake, too phony. With the way Matthew beams, he knows it's just him, but that gives him no reassurance. Why does he feel so odd?

"That's good!" Matthew says. "That's really good... I was really worried last night."

"I heard. Eliza said you were ready to take out a few nurses and security because they wouldn't let you back with me."

"Jeez... It wasn't that bad. I would never attack a nurse, if anything I probably raised my voice a little."

"Mattie, the equivalent of you raising your voice is like me tossing a buffalo."

"Except, y'know, that never happens."

"Hey, a man can dream."

Matthew's light laughter is almost enough to relax, bring him back to feeling somewhat normal. It'd work a lot better without having the sight of Arthur sitting there watching them right out from the corner of his eye. With Matthew coming to sit on the edge of his bed, all slouched over and looking like he belongs, it's hard to ignore Arthur's presence no matter how much he may want. All crossed arms, straight back, his enormous eyebrows furrowed in irritation, and with that ever lovely scowl plastered on his face Arthur certainly is the complete opposite of Matthew. If it wasn't for his brother prattling on about not only how glad he is to see him and giving him the update on Toris' health, he'd be more inclined to snap at him. Tell him that if he doesn't want to be here, no one is forcing him, or even wants him around.

He doesn't get the chance though. Halfway through Matthew going into how exhausted Feliks appeared when they arrived at their home Arthur cuts into the conversation.

"Matthew," he calls and granted instant attention. "How would you say your brother is fairing?"

Alfred watches in silence as Matthew looks to him in confusion before giving him the same expression and then turning back to Arthur.

"He's doing fine," he said. "Looks a lot better than he did last night."

To this Arthur nods. He looks oddly pleased with his answer and goes on to say, "Good, I'm glad to hear it. That being said, with your fears of Alfred's well-being put to rest, I'll ask you to leave us for the moment."

Both his and Matthew's eyes widen at his request. It's such a bold statement, all things considering. Alfred's and Arthur's relationship is still strained at best, it's a near shot miracle that nothing catty has been started, no insult has been flung back and forth at each other just yet. As Matthew tries to gain his bearings, tries to appease to Arthur in some way that such a thing is entirely unneeded. There's no reason for him to leave the room after all. Nothing can be said that just isn't going to come back to him later in any case.

Alfred, who has already shaken off the initial surprise and is now even more upset, bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from shouting at Arthur like he's been wanting to from the beginning. Not for the sake of his brother, or even for their privacy, but for the very fact that he knows there's no sense in losing his temper. If it's one thing he's learned from all his years of living with Arthur and the outcome of their last shouting match, it's that nothing comes from it other than Alfred looking like the child and a dispute gone unsettled.

He can't let that repeat itself. He has to win this thing now.

"Matt."

Hearing his name cuts his brother off mid-sentence, effectively grabbing his attention and having him turn to look towards his direction. Alfred doesn't bother to wait for him to ask the question that is written all over his face.

"It's okay. You can leave."

"Al... What?"

It's understandable, really. If it's anything that should be more unsettling than Arthur's request for them to be alone, it's Alfred's calm assurance that it's perfectly fine. Before Matthew can continue on with his questioning, Alfred again repeats himself.

"You can leave, it'll be okay."

He looks to his brother, catches his eye and tries to silently plead with him that this is something that needs to happen, it would have eventually, so why not now? Matthew must understand, he doesn't give any real verbal agreement to Alfred's request, but he does rise up from his place on the bed and gives him a small nod. His way to the door, in what is only a few steps but feels as though it takes ages to make, is passed in silence, and right before closing it behind him, he looks to Alfred once more. He gives his brother a final nod, and watches silently as Matthew finally enters the hallway and the door closes behind him with a resolute click.

With Matthew gone, there's a deafening quiet between the two left in the room. It's uncomfortable to say the least, almost borders on unsettling, and there's the tension that warrants one of them to break with something, anything, before it grows too thick and leaves them to stew in an aura of growing awkward hostility. With a deep inhale, Alfred takes on the role himself.

"What are you doing here?"

The question goes unanswered. A beat passes between them, and rather than say anything, Arthur reaches into his jacket and pulls out from an inside pocket a small satchel tied together with purple ribbon. He leans over and places it right on a nearby tray carrying a barely touched lunch brought in by nurses not an hour earlier and a glass of water.

"I want you to keep that near you. Under your pillow, in your gown, does not matter as long as it is near you at all times. Understood?"

Alfred goes still. Again, a silence descends upon them and the only real difference this time is his constant staring at the small satchel and the creeping cold that climbs up his back and threatens to wrap itself around his neck. He can feel his heart begin to work up a frantic beat and for a second all he hears is his own blood rushing through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, forces himself to regain some sense of normalcy and opens them again not a moment later. He feels much calmer, though now nauseous, but he has enough strength to carry on the conversation and carries on by repeating himself.

"Why are you here, Arthur?"

Rather than seem exasperated or annoyed with the repeated question, Arthur's face remains neutral as he leans back into his seat. The quiet returns, and rather than go through the same pattern of before, Alfred is ready to throw everything aside and just tell him to leave if he's not going to be cooperative. Arthur, however, beats him to it with some carefully chosen words.

"I... have the appropriate knowledge needed for a situation such as this. As you already know."

He doesn't know what to say to that. It's undeniable, yes, Arthur does know more than any of them, but then it comes to stand that it's only a bit presumptuous of him to offer his services without so much as acknowledging whether or not Alfred wants them. To come here unannounced, unwanted, and already giving a small offering without any consultation- well, Alfred may not show it, his face is kept as expressionless as possible, but inside he feels his temper begin to rise.

"And... you want to help?" he asks, keeping his tone even and cool. "Right, you want to help to me out with this?"

Arthur's response is instant and unquestionable. "Of course."

Alfred isn't sure which irritates him more, his resolution or his sincerity. "Why?"

This time, Arthur does sigh in exasperation. "You know why, Alfred."

"No, Arthur, I don't think I know why. Because what was it that you said? That you had no obligation to help or take in me and Mattie, right? Right, you said that, right?"

"Alfred-"

"That's what you said, right?!"

To his credit, Arthur does look rather regretful. Not that Alfred minds one bit, if anything he's feeling a bit elated at being able to procure some sort of guilt within the other.

"We both said things we did not mean."

"I meant everything I said."

To that, Arthur remains silent once more. Alfred isn't exactly sure what he's thinking, but he does notice the twitch at the corner of his lips and those heavy eyebrows of his begin to dip further into each other. Arthur is growing irritated, and he finds that amazingly acceptable.

"Alfred," Arthur begins once more, "I understand the sudden influx of regaining so much insight at once is overwhelming. I also understand that it was my fault, I should have better prepared you for that. However, you must realize that the exercises used to expel those memories are not for holding grudges, they are for attaining a clearer insight which you are clearly not doing."

"Oh believe me, I have a much better fucking clearer insight. It's just a bit much to take in, y'know? The now knowing how shitty of a childhood I actually really had and all."

"That is no reason to take your anger out on me!"

"You're the one that started those fucking lessons!"

"I gave you those lessons because you were the one interested in them!"

"I was ten, of course I was gonna jump at whatever fucking stupid shit you were telling me after seeing you put that board back together like that. Tell a kid you know how to do magic and they're gonna wanna do it too."

"I offered the same to Matthew. He may not even remember it now, but I did and he refused politely enough. I didn't force you into learning what you did, and it's certainly not my fault if you didn't take any of it seriously enough to avoid any of this now."

As if he doesn't hear any of Arthur's words, Alfred goes on with saying, "And what good does any of it do anyway?! I spent a whole year in that basement with you that basement, learning all this witchy shit once a month before finally having the common sense to quit, and for what? I should have stayed away, I went years staying away, I should have just left it to what you would tell me and Mattie both. I should have never asked you what you were doing that day because the only thing I got out of it was learning how my shitty parents had to die."

Alfred glances at his half-brother, watches as he runs a hand down his mouth, and finally listens to him as he says, "They didn't have to die, it just happened."

"Things don't just happen."

"Sometimes, Alfred, things just happen that are beyond our control. It happens."

"No, I'm pretty sure that was all on your mom. Right? Because she wasn't strong enough for a double binding?"

"Your mother's death cannot be blamed on my mother, she did what she did to ensure both your's and Matthew's happiness, she did what she did to keep both her and him alive and it failed, but that was not her fault! She was too weak from keeping our father alive before it happened and they were both too far gone in any case, there was nothing she could have done, and to pay for that she lost her own life. You are not the only orphan here Alfred, you are not the only one to have lost their parents!"

He pats at the front of his jacket and Alfred knows that he's looking for his pack of cigarettes. It's an automatic tic, he knows Arthur's habit of always smoking when speaking about his mother. He almost feels a bit sorry for him not being able to do so inside a hospital. He doesn't remind him though, Arthur remembers on his own and moves his hands to his knees, keeps one fisted and the other splayed open to tap against his leg.

"If anyone has the right to be bitter for what happened all those years ago, it should be me," he goes on to say without even looking Alfred in the eye. "Tossed aside and left with a pining mother, who in turn kept being used for years and allowed it, all while knowing that nothing was going to bring him back to her truly. Watched her lose her status within her own coven, shunned from my own inheritance because of her constant failings, even nursed her through every sickness he felt after tying her life with his.

"Even if she was full aware of him no longer loving her the way she wanted, knowing he had no regards for the son he fathered, and still taking on his illnesses and even giving her own life in an attempt for him to keep his. As if watching her lose herself to drink wasn't enough, a literal death needed to be witnessed."

"And then having to taking in two poor helpless orphans because that's what your lovely mother would have done," Alfred says mockingly. "Because there wasn't anything in it for you. You didn't even know us, you wouldn't even had known us if social services didn't come knocking on your door."

Arthur instantly makes a face. "Don't make it a pity party for you. What would have happened had I not intervened? Don't pretend you don't know how unlikely it would have been for the both of you to be placed within the same foster home. With no one to care for you, no family, no guardians, I did the both of you a favor by revealing myself to you, and had I been thinking of the actions my mother would have made, then that's someone else you should feel some gratitude towards."

"Your mom was the reason my parents marriage was failing!" shouts Alfred. "The screaming, the fighting, all the fucking dinners that would end with my mom throwing dishes at the wall. Climbing into Matthew's bed at night when my dad would take off for days and all I'd hear is her crying for hours and then being yelled at when going to see her. They were going to see a counselor when that pile up happened, that's what he was talking about when they were driving us to the play center. That's why they died!"

"Our parents died because they were all weak! Our father was a man plagued by infidelity and indecisiveness, my mother was a love struck fool who could not refuse, and your mother could not understand that it was he who had been wronging them both!"

"Then whose fault was it?!"

"Every one's! Maybe no one's! What does it matter, Alfred? It happened, it's over and done with, we cannot do anything about it now, why are you clinging on to this?"

The questions strikes him hard. Alfred can't reply, he sits in silence, ignores Arthur's presence and blinks rapidly to ease the burning sensation hitting his eyes.

"I don't know..." he replies shakily. It's the most honest answer he can give.

Neither one of them speak for several moments. There doesn't appear to be a correct way to carry on the conversation, but to leave it at such a standstill is unacceptable, something needs to be said. Alfred struggles to find a way to regain his stance, but feels too drained to carry on. He leaves it to Arthur, who does nothing more than change the subject.

"There's a lot I don't understand. I take it you don't fully understand either, otherwise you would have already been rid of it."

Alfred does't reply, he only nods.

"That's makes finding a solution more difficult. Not improbable, but with my methods, one will be found. I'll just have to pull in new resources and delve a little further in my studies."

"Fucking magic's never done anything good," says Alfred finally finding his voice.

His negative outlook does nothing to deter Arthur's resolution. "Yes, well, fucking magic is what is going to help us out of this mess."

Deciding that there is nothing more to the conversation on his own, Arthur leaves his seat. He makes for the door all while saying, "Basic principles, Alfred, that was the first lesson I gave you."

"How I wish I could forget."

"It's your own doing. I told you to stay out of the basement."

"You also said that if I didn't believe in any of this, nothing would happen."

"But you do believe in all of this. No matter how many jokes you make or times you deny, you do, and that makes all the difference."

With his hand on the handle, Arthur turns to look at him once more. He doesn't appear angry, and for all Alfred knows he isn't, but that doesn't stop him from feeling a sort of dreadful anticipation from what he may say next.

"Toris bound himself to you last night," he says.

"I know," Alfred replies, all while leaning back and turning his head to stare out the window. "I wasn't sure at first. But it sounded like what you said your mom did for my dad."

"You are very lucky to have friends who care as much as they do," is all Arthur says. "You should be happy to hear he's doing well. He's healing rapidly, most likely thanks to the medical attention you've received."

A small flicker of relief ignites in him.

"That's... that's good..."

"Yes," Arthur agrees, "it is. If you won't take care of yourself for your own sake, the least you can do is do it for him. I haven't figured a way to pull him out of the pact just yet."

He makes no comment on the foolish bargain he's made for Toris' life already, he doesn't have it in him to start another something up between them when their current complication still feels so unresolved.

Alfred feels Arthur's presence hover by the door. He turns to see him still looking on at him, only this time with an expression he hasn't seen for many years.

"I may have taken you in out of charity," he says, "but we are still blood, and I did grow to love the both of you. From the moment you were put in my care, I have always wanted you safe, and I am going to see to it whether you like it or not."

It's the closet to a goodbye he'll receive, and probably the most affectionate in all their years together. Alfred makes no reply to it, he's not even completely sure what he can possibly say, and it doesn't take long for Arthur to recognize as much and leaves without another word.

The second Arthur steps out of the room, the temperature plummets drastically. There's a low rumble, nearly undetectable but visible enough to rattle the shutters covering the large window, make them vibrate and even the glass of water on his tray tremble. A sharp crack in the window's corner calls his attention, and he notices the way it begins to lengthen upwards. Someone is obviously unhappy, and he already knows the reason why.

"Yeah, shut up," he says and finally reaches for the satchel.

Alfred makes quick work to untie the knot, makes sure to keep everything inside together to prevent a spill. He brings the glass of water over and carefully pours the crushed plants and all within inside, picks up his spoon and presses it all further into the glass, is sure to soak every bit of it with water. As he does so, the temperature returns to normal, the tension eases and everything returns to normal.

After another stir he empties the entire glass into the small pot of flowers they brought him, grabs a handful of dying petals and crushes them in his hand before wrapping them up in the small cloth and ties it all together as Arthur had. The next time Matthew and Arthur come for a visit, he won't know the difference. He'll hand Alfred another satchel that will be taken without a word in refusal, and do the exact same once he leaves.

It goes on this way for days.

Then turns into a week.

Goes on to two.

Bandages are being removed, his medications are being cut down. There's a lot of talk of him being able to leave the hospital soon, his release date keeps being debated as tests begin to dwindle. They all congratulate him with happy tones and smiles, always make the passing comment of how glad he should be for this quick turnaround, they haven't seen anyone with such severe injuries heal like this. How lucky he must be, they all say, and Alfred feeds into their assurance with his own smiles and slight shrugs. He plays the part of the happy patient to the best of his abilities, all while that niggling thought of what now must come stays alive and well at the back of his mind, never letting him forget the deal he's made.

Which must happen soon now. There's no real way to keep denying it, not at this point. It's obvious he's well enough.

So it's no surprise, that one night as darkness falls and the hospital he stirs out of a quiet sleep to the touch of fingers ghosting over his thighs. They lift his gown up past his hips, trail over his skin and check over his body. They press here and there, looking for something he's not quite sure, but it has him tense up all the same.

The movements still, but the pressure against his skin remains. He takes in a shaky breath and senses something crawling over him, coming up to rest in the crook of his neck. He feels light breathing against him, feels a small kiss being planted and instead of being a reassuring action, it has him tense even more. This does not please the other at all.

It forces Alfred onto his back, has him squeeze his eyes shut even harder and tears at the hospital gown, revealing his bare torso and exposing him to the cold of the room. He instantly curls in on himself, manages to open his eyes to small slits before closing them again in a hurry at the sight of a dark figure at the end of the bed making its way to loom over him once more, and he bites his lip to keep any sounds at bay at the feel of a large palm run itself up and down his body.

It's an unasked question: Is his body able to take such physical hardships?

Yes. They both know it. He can't hide it.

"You.. You said that Toris would be free," he whispers. "Did you do that? He can't be bound to me anymore, I won't do this if he is."

It brings it's face down to Alfred's. He gulps at the feel of a hand cupping his chin, moves his head up and then down again. It's an answer, an unconventionally given one, but an answer all the same.

Alfred gulps, his breathing begins to quicken and his heart is pounding away in his chest with both fear and excruciating anticipation. He makes no move to stop the hand cupping his chin from moving downward to palm at his chest.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tosses his head to side and lets out this strained little whimper.

He feels nauseous. He wants to vomit.

The noise stills all movement. From his chest, he feels a slight caress of that hand move from where it rests against his chest, all the way up to cradle his chin and moves it carefully to face in it's direction.

Alfred feels a hot puff of air against his lips, breathes in shakily, and is given the most tender kiss he's ever received. It's meant to be a comfort, a promise of being taken care of, of being loved. He feels all of this meaning in this one small gesture and while it calms him, at the same time it causes a small lump to form in the back of his throat.

He wants to cry.

He hiccups when the contact is broken, leans his head back into the pillow, and he takes the deepest breath he can manage to keep himself from hyperventilating.

Alfred keeps his eyes closed, even when feeling those same lips press against the underside of his chin, makes a trail all the way down his neck and nips against his collarbone. The nauseous feeling comes back as he can tell that his body is responding to the attentions he's being given, especially when a pair of hands comes to rest on his hips and ghost feather like touches against his bare skin with just fingertips.

It shouldn't be as stimulating as it is, but Alfred's body can't help but find it enjoyable.

Where his hands were once gripping at the bed sheets so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white, they loosen up and come to rest on a set of shoulders. This must please It, he can hear a rumbling purr fill room, and a sudden hand comes to palm at his crotch.

Alfred inhales sharply. His heart beat begins to pick up and his stomach twists even more violently in anticipation.

The boxers he wears are picked at their seam. Rather than slipping them off, they're being torn off from his body bit by bit as if he were a present being unwrapped. He balls his hands up, presses them against his closed lids and bites down on the inside of his cheek. Alfred trembles when they're finally pulled away, keeps the noises to a minimum, and does his best to keep the dreadful feeling that rises up in him at knowing just how hard he's getting.

He jumps when he comes to feels a long tongue swipe at the underside of his cock. His hands go back to clenching at the bed sheets and his toes curl. The stimulation makes up for the lack of suckling, the simple laps of tongue against his erection is enough for him to cry out in little pleasure filled moans.

It goes on long enough for Alfred to lose his sense of bearing. He doesn't even realize that his hips are being lifted up and is only becoming aware of the change of his position when the cheeks of his ass are being spread.

Alfred yelps at the feeling of it lapping at his exposed hole. His hips wiggle, try to squirm away from what he's feeling but he's unable to get away. The grip on his hips tighten their hold, silently tell him to calm himself. Alfred gulps, settles back and gulps back the unsettling emotions rolling through him as he lets what will happen to happen.

Except he can't seem to distract himself from how disgusting it is, really. It all feels so terribly gross and wrong, and all it really does is cause him to tighten up more, grow more stiff and that is exactly the opposite of what this monster wants because he growls suddenly.

It's a warning, Alfred can tell.

He breathes heavily, clenches again at the bed sheets and does all he can to calm down. He lies back and counts to one hundred, and when he feels the long tongue push pass the ring of muscle, he counts even louder inside his head.

He's gone soft at this point, but that doesn't seem to deter the other being. It pays some attention to his falling erection, palms and laps at it to git some sort of stimulation, but ultimately keep it's full attention with stretching him open until he's lose and wet enough to be taken.

Alfred is back to nearly hyperventilating again. The wait feels like it takes forever and he's torn between wanting to get it over with and pushing away to keep it from happening all deals aside until it's too late to make a different decision. He can feel the head of the other's length press against his entrance. Alfred's breathing turns shaky at best and he feels his eyes water behind closed lids. He bites his lips from making any noise when it finally presses in and finally claims him.

There are tears streaming down his cheeks. Small sobs and whimpers emerge from the back of his throat, and he does what he can to stop them from coming out.

"Open your eyes," he hears. The voice is smaller than he expected, softer even, nothing like the mocking one he remembers hearing so long ago in Feliciano's bathroom. "Alfred..."

There's a small part of him that wants to rebel against this request, but a larger part of him is genuinely curious. If he's going to damn himself to whatever perversions this entity wants, he may as well confront it, know his enemy by sight and quit being afraid of what is now inevitable because of his choice.

So with that in mind, Alfred slowly begins to open his eyes. At first he sees nothing, because of how dark the room is and because his eyelashes still obscure his vision, leaves it even more blurry that it already is his bad eyesight. He gathers enough courage to open them completely, finds that there is no glowing eyes like his friends had reported, no demon spawn in the likeness of Satan, nothing like what they had seen.

Before him, is a pale young man, with soft violet eyes, and a round face.

His hair is as pale as his skin, his body, no different than if he had been anyone else that he may have passed in the streets. Honestly, Alfred didn't really know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this.

His thoughts are interrupted with the look he gives Alfred, an expressions crossed between concern and adoration. He shifts his hips, and Alfred gasps at the sudden movement, feels the length inside him move deeper just as he moves to nuzzle against the side of Alfred's head.

"Please," this man murmurs against his ear. "Please."

A feeling comes over him, one he's not sure how to describe, but it overwhelms him and suddenly Alfred finds himself wrapping his arms around his neck and raises his own hips up encouragingly.

There's a smile stretched out on the other's face, he can feel is against his skin. The first thrust surprises him, Alfred cries out more from the initial shock when he pulls his hips back sharply just to snap back into the warmth of Alfred's body once more.

It's such an odd sensation, Alfred thinks. Being taken like this. He's never considered the option, never really considered any part of sex much, there has always been something more important to deal with than losing his virginity.

He wants to laugh, feels a gross chuckle form in his throat, is about to let it out when suddenly a new sensation has him cry out in pleasure.

The tone of his shout is more than noticeable apparently. Every now and again, with his thrust, the other will pass over the same spot inside of him that has him soon moaning out loudly, has his erection spring back to life, and has him spread his legs wider. He soon loses all rational thought, allows himself drown in the intense feeling of sexual pleasure that comes to posses every fiber of his being.

"More," he begs without even really meaning to. "More, please, more, it feels goo-ood..."

The other's thrusts soon press deeper, harder, and the grip on his hands tighten. Alfred thinks he feels something sharp dig into his skin, but rather grow alarmed he only whimpers out at how good it feels along with everything else being done to him.

He reaches out to grab at the back of his head, pulls at a fist full of hair and is able to bring their faces together easily enough. He captures the other's lips, presses them hard against his own, and doesn't fight when being demanded for more. He feels sharp teeth nibble at his bottom lip, finds he can't bring himself to mind, and laps at them.

The man on top of him shudders and pulls away, leaving Alfred to groan at the loss and begins to thrust faster.

The building tension in Alfred's groin grows tight. There are tears forming at the corner of his eyes once more, though this time from being so close to an orgasm and still not being able to reach his peak just yet. He frees an arm, moves it in between them and tries to grab at himself. Their moving at too fast a pace, and he's a bit too far gone to be able to get a proper grasp at his cock. Just as he fears he'll never be able to reach it, this man, this demon - _his_ demon, bends down to kiss the juncture of his neck and shoulder once, and then bites down to leave his mark.

It's all he needs for that tension to finally snap and Alfred climaxes with a loud shout. It's a wonder no one comes to check on him, where have all of the hospital staff gone?

It's only a fleeting thought, soon brushed away by the glow of his aftermath and he finds that doesn't even care. Alfred just lies there and allows his demon to use him as he will.

He doesn't know how long he's still being thrust in to. His mind is groggy and his oversensitive body takes what's given to him as it comes with little resistance if with some discomfort. Just as it feels like his chest is going to explode with how hard his heart is beating, the thrusts come to a shuttering halt. He feels his demon grow inside of him, followed by the wet splatter of his release coating his insides.

The breathing above him is labored, as well as his own. He groans when they pull apart, and again when the other pulls out of him and what follows is a trickle of semen spilling out from his stretched hole.

His heartbeat is still pounding away in his chest, his skin sticky with cooling sweat, and his eyes are too heavy to keep open. He throws his head back into his pillow, gulps in one deep breath after another, and allows himself to be manhandled onto his side. Eventually his breathing returns to normal. He's feeling sated and more at ease than he can ever remember.

For the first time in a long time, he feels like he may actually attain a peaceful night's sleep.

He feels his demon curl in behind him, wrap his arms around his waist and brings them closer together, effectively cuddling with him and falls asleep to the pleasing purrs resounding in his ears.

**xxx**

-FFN took down one of my other fics, I'm gonna be editing this and reuploading uncut chapters with smut and stuff on my AO3 account. More info on that to come, but for now enjoy it here while you can.

-Anyway, next chapter features Matthew and Arthur, brief cameos from Gilbert and Eliza, and a new character that will definitely help put a jump in all this detective work.

-So yes, stay shiny lovelies, I'll see you soon. xoxo

**xx**

Nonnie Love:

Guest: I knooow~ I tried to get this one out sooner, but just.. life. ugh. Thanks for the review, hope you're still reading. ^-^

Hyperkaoru: My friend! It has really been too long! I'm happy that you're still reading, and I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to get back to this, I hope these past couple of chapters make up for that. ^-^

LunaMay: Thank you! I'll do my best.

anon: Thank you. Lucky you, you reviewed the day before an update. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**xxx**  
>12<br>**xxx**

"Find her."

It had been all Arthur said to him when they first arrived home. Right before he whips off his jacket and disappears into the kitchen. Matthew jumps at what can only be the basement door being ripped open and slammed shut behind him. He assumes Arthur means for him to locate the sister - he can't recall her name, he'll have to text Feliks for it - since Toris' friend is dead. It's a logical assumption and he dives head on in the search.

Katherine Arlovsky; he reads it over and over, writes it again and again, mutters it under his breath so he will not forget. One reason being because she is essential to their search for a solution, the other being simply because she isn't exactly easy to track.

Matthew scours whatever he can on-line, but sites like Facebook and other prolific networking sites only lead to dead ends and the wrong person. He does find a MySpace profile that may have belonged to her (the photo Toris had sent him matches well enough with the one he views), but doubts that he would receive a message back even if his own account still existed. All in all, his continuous failing of being able to locate one person frustrates him enough, so much to the point he begins to use other methods.

He spreads the name to the others, tells them all to keep an ear out in the off chance they'll hear something. In between his breaks at work, he runs his fingers over yellow pages looking for a listing and calling the ones he finds. He asks if they have known of a girl called Natalya, and hangs up the minute they answer "No".

"You ever think of maybe trying to find a forward address?" Eliza suggest one day at work. "It wasn't that long ago we got that box, so there should be something so that her mail gets to her."

"I was thinking of that," Matthew replies. "I even searched WikiHow on how to do that, and I tried it that way. Didn't get anything back though, so I thought maybe to call the old address and see if there was a new number to call, but the number Toris gave me only led me to a recording saying that was no longer in service."

He slumps across the front counter, arms stretched out, hands dangling over the edge and looks so worn out Eliza can't help the small pat she gives him shoulder for some reassurance.

"I don't know what to do," he groans. "I can't even really talk to Arthur about it, all he does is go straight to the basement after work. I don't even see him eat. I don't even think he eats."

"Are you eating at least?"

"Yes, mom, I am."

"Just making sure, you don't have to get snappy with me- Oh, God, that was such a mom response."

Matthew ends up laughing and feels a lot lighter afterwards, though still looking a little down trodden. He smiles up at Eliza, who returns it just as softly and tells him to go ahead and take his break. It's a slow day, she's able to cover it just fine on her own.

He takes the excuse and drags himself to the backroom. He knows that he should plop himself right in front of the store's computer and type in the same name he's been searching for into the search engine for days now but just can't bring himself to do such. A short break from it, that's all he needs, just some time to regroup and rethink what he should do next.

So, instead, he sits down at the break table and slumps over again. He buries his head into his arms, he's so exhausted, and ends up drifting into a sleep...

...Only to be awoken by his cellphone blaring away from inside his pocket.

He jolts away and scrambles for it. He ends up hitting an elbow against the back of his chair and swears loudly before he's even able to check the collar ID.

It's Gilbert.

He answer the call with a simple, "Hello?"

"_Be prepared to start loving me_," comes the response from the other line.

"I'm flattered, Gil, but the last thing I need is a pissed Italian looking to cut a homewrecker."

"_Shut up, smartass, and listen. I'm at work_-"

"Congratulations, so am I."

"_I'm this close to hanging up on you. Anyway- ahh, hold on._"

Matthew waits patiently through the sounds of extremely loud fire alarms going off and someone yelling about how the new guy just toasted all of the pizzas. Then there's loud coughing coming from who he knows must be Gilbert and a heavy metal door being opened. In Matthew's honest opinion, this is far better than any elevator music.

There's a few more coughs before Gilbert starts speaking again, and even then it's to ask if Matthew is still on the line.

Matthew answers that he is very much still on the line.

"_Right, okay, I found that Katherine chick you've been looking for_."

A beat passes.

"_No, really! 'Cept, okay, I'm pretty sure it's her. There was an order put in for someone named 'Katy' and she paid with a card under the name 'Yekaterina Arlovskaya'. So, I made the delivery myself, jumped at it and everything like a newbie, you're welcome, by the way. She looks like the chick in the picture you forwarded to me. Pretty sure it's her._"

"And you still have the address and everything?!"

"_Sure do, got it stashed in my car._"

"Oh my fucking- Gilbert, that's awesome! Your job's fucking awesome!"

"_Good to hear someone finally acknowledging that. Anyway, I'm on break right now but when I get back I only got like an hour left. I'm dropping Feli off for his shift afterwards, you gonna be there still?_"

"Yeah, I get off when he clocks in. Gilbert, y'know, just thanks again. You're awesome."

"_Again, good to hear someone finally acknowledging that. I'll see ya later then, man._"

Matthew says his goodbyes and hangs up the phone. The second he does so he runs out to the front and tackles Eilza from the back all while shouting the good news.

Because good news it is, and it certainly brightens up Arthur's broody expression the moment he tell him. He then looks relieved, mutters something about being bollocks at translating, and asks for the address. Matthew gives it to him without hesitation, and through that he's able to locate a home number which he calls. After a brief conversation, Matthew finds himself being herded out the front door and into the car. He doesn't need to ask, he knows they're on their way to meeting this woman.

There's little conversation between them. The only spoken words are the ones Matthew says as he gives Arthur directions via GPS. It's not the longest of drives, and in little time they find themselves parking in a small lot adjacent to an even smaller apartment complex.

The one they search for is at the very end of the first floor, and Arthur leads the way. He even knocks, which for Matthew is more than fine, he's all nerves right now.

Arthur himself only fairs slightly better. He's spent the time Matthew's taken to search for this woman to not only strengthen his own power, but has done his best at translating what had been written in those journals. He hasn't gotten very far into it, the lack of any real knowledge on the language's origins has his estimated guesses mean little when the handwritten alphabet gives him such trouble in deciphering. However, he'd been able to notice the change in script, the calm and neat precision lettering turning into the quick scratches of emotion that shine through the pages and he's noted them all.

Those are the ones he wants to know specifically, those are the ones he needs this woman to translate for him, as well as give him everything that has happened to her sister in the time leading up to her death.

The door opens. Behind the threshold stands a woman near his age and dressed simply. She's quite pretty herself, and though she gives them a warm smile, he's able to see her shoulders tense and the lack of that warmth reaching her eyes. He steels himself for the guilt he'll later feel. After all, it can't be easy for her to have a conversation of a terrible tragedy that's plagued her family.

"Hello," she greets. "You're Arthur, right? The one I spoke with on the phone?"

"Yes," says Arthur. "Miss Arlovsky, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my younger brother Matthew, I hope him also being here is not an inconvenience."

"Oh, no. No, no, that's all right. And please, call me Katherine." She steps back into her apartment, widens the door and beckons for them to follow after. "Please, come in."

They take up her offer and she leads them into her small living room, which consists of only a desk, a small paisley love seat, and a set of matching arm chairs. A walnut coffee table in the middle already hosts a tray filled with mismatched mugs and an old ceramic tea pot, the hum of a desktop computer accompanies the ticking of a wall clock hanging amidst family photographs.

"Would you like some tea?" she offers both of them. "I-I don't really have much to offer for snacks. To go with the tea, I mean."

"Oh no, that's perfectly all right," Arthur tells her.

His reassurances seem to settle her as she graciously offers them a seat on her sofa and takes one herself in an arm chair across from them. As she pours out the tea and offers a cup to each one, Arthur contemplates what would be the best way to delve into the subject. He decides to be straight forward.

"Miss- ah, Katherine," Arthur both begins and pauses simply to make certain he has her attention. He continues with a simple nod of her head. "Recently, you've made several donations to second hand shops, correct?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't know if there was a proper way to do that. If I caused an inconvenience, or had done something wrong-"

"No. No, it isn't anything like that. We only had a few questions on some items that were found in a box outside of my brother's store."

Her hands come together and she begins to wring them. "When I moved from my father's home, I gave much of what was inside of it away. I don't know if I can remember what I left where."

"There were several books inside this box," Matthew answers her. "Journals. Most of them written in, more of them blank. Black clothing, candles... There was also a ouija board."

When she only looks down into her lap and makes no reply, Arthur takes it upon himself to further explain.

"Or a scrying board," he says. "A simple plank of wood that has been used to communicate with the dead or other supernatural creatures-"

"I know what it is," she cuts him off sharply, startling both of her guests with her slightly aggressive tone.

For several moments, neither Arthur or Matthew know what to make of the sudden change in their host, but fortunately when she does raise her head to look at them again, she is apologetic and even says as much.

"I know what it is," she repeats in a much softer voice. "It belonged to my sister."

"Natalya?"

"Yes. But you knew that. That's why you're here."

They are not questions she asks, they both know this. Her statements are so simply worded that it's almost as if she is resigned to the truth. There is no point in hiding.

"I will admit," she goes on to say, "that when I received your call, I already knew what you needed information for. I think the main reason I invited you over today was a morbid curiosity to know what else _it_ has done."

"_It_?" asks Arthur, under the guise of not knowing what she means so that she herself may give them an more in-depth explanation.

"The…" she begins and trails off. "The ghost, or the _monster_, whatever _it_ is. The reason why my sister is dead. The thing that lives in that board."

"So you know what it is?" Matthew asks this time.

Katherine shakes her head. "No. I only know that it killed my sister."

On the table in front of them, the drinks she's provided grow colder and untouched. If any of them had an inclination to take them up before, it's certainly gone now.

"If I may ask," she says. "How did you know that I was the one to leave that on the sidewalk?"

"My brother and I are friends with Toris," Matthew tells her. "He says he recognized the scarf my brother was wearing the night we were all attacked from whatever it is that had haunted your sister."

"Scarf..."

From the small briefcase he had brought along, carrying the journals he had been studying, Arthur clicks it open to pull out the pink scarf Alfred had claimed for his own. Folded neatly into a square, he hands it over to Katherine, who takes it back hesitatingly.

"I haven't seen Toris in years," she says. "Not since Natasha left school. The last time I spoke with him must have been, last year, I think. It had been such a spontaneous call, I had found my sister's old address book after my father died and his was the only number written in it. I'm not surprised though, that he was able to recognize my work."

"You're not?"

"No," she laughs lightly. "I was horrible when I first started. I used to say that this loop here was my signature, but the truth is I was terrible at finishing and only said that. She would also wear this everywhere, and he would follow her everywhere until their falling out."

She clutches the fabric closer to her. "Do you know, sometimes I think she liked him just as much as he liked her. I used to tease her with wedding talk and what their children would look like. My sister was very beautiful. She would have had beautiful children."

Her words begin to croak towards the end, eyes shining and it's obvious that in a matter of time she'll begin to cry. Arthur scoots to the edge of his seat and leans over the coffee table carefully to place a hand over her own as some comfort.

She smiles gratefully, and it's then that's he confident to ask, "What happened to your sister?"

"I don't know," she confesses. "I don't know... It started around the time she was thirteen. She was very lonely, and I knew that it was from when our mother left us. Our father was not a bad man, believe me, but he didn't know how to take care of children. I tried so hard to care for her like she needed but I know it's not the same, and somewhere along the way... I lost sight of her."

She wipes at her eyes, clears her throat. "She became interested in dark things. She started with buying tarot cards and other fortune telling things like that. She would talk about how interesting ghosts are and how magic is real, and I would humor her. But then she started bringing odd books into the house, things that would explain black magic, demons, monsters. She showed me once, but when I started to show my concern, she shut me out. I thought it was a rebellious phase, but when she brought that board home everything changed.

"When she began high school, she started skipping classes, and then she stopped coming down for meals, she would lock herself in her room and she grew more violent, more defensive when I would try to ask her if she was alright. She was the most upset when I would tell her I was worried. She would say that there is no reason for me to worry for her. That she had someone else to care for her."

"What did she mean?"

"I don't know. I thought she met a boy, someone who had changed her to do these things, but after a few weeks of following her and keeping tabs on her, I found that she actually had no friends. There was no one to influence her and so I didn't know what to do."

Katherine sighs, wrings her hands into the folds of the scarf in her hands and says, "She only grew worse and I didn't know what to do about it. She dropped out from school and would keep herself locked in her bedroom for days. When she would leave she wouldn't speak or eat, but she would leave for hours before coming back home and then lock herself up again. It went on for years until one day... one day she was just gone. The doctors had said it was a mix of starvation and exhaustion."

Arthur is able to sense that she is reaching her limit. She's clearly putting a lot of effort into not crying as she tells this story, and he does already feel guilty for what he's about to ask of her. That doesn't stop him though, from revealing the book he's brought with him and holds it in his hands.

"Katherine, I- What I have here is one of the journals that were in the box my brothers found. You know they are hers, but did you ever read them?"

She shakes her head. "No. No, I could never.. bring myself to do so."

The guilt settles heavy in him, but it needs to be done.

"All of it," he says. "Seems to be written in Russian, and translation has been difficult to say the least. When we had come to an agreement to meet, I had also hoped that we may have you read some passages, just so that we may have a better feel of what we're up against. A first hand perspective, may give us the upper hand."

Katherine looks at them with such uncertainty that Arthur is almost willing to pull it back, tell her to forget the plea, but he keeps determined and eventually she relents.

What Natalya has written in her journals, were mostly small bits of poetry, some research of paranormal interests, and a good amount of entries devoted to her loneliness. She mentions her neglectful father a few times, her mother almost never, and Katherine constantly. Though mostly of how she knows when her sister grows older and moves on to forge her own life, she'll forget about her. It's at this parts where their host is almost unable to read clearly and without having to wipe at her eyes. Once more, Arthur is almost brought to the point where he'll thank her for her time and have their conversation end there, but before that happens something else is mentioned.

She calls him _Ivan,_ and it's a start. A name is a good thing, and he makes sure to tell Matthew to write that down as well as whatever may come next as notes. She mentions him coming to her in her sleep mostly, hugging her waist and giving her a feeling of security. She calls him her guardian angel and the longer the relationship goes on, the more she seems to fall in love with him.

This particular journal only reaches the point just after her fifteenth birthday, and it's where they must stop. At the first mention of him touching her beneath her clothing, Katherine is no longer coherent, she is sobbing almost hysterically, and Arthur takes the book away.

It's Matthew that does most of the comforting, gets her to settle down and it takes a good half hour for them to make certain that she will be alright on her own before they leave. They say their goodbyes at the door, and Arthur makes even more apologies for them coming to her and having relive all of this heartbreak.

In turn, she wishes them luck, and closes the door, leaving them on her doorstep. Both men turn away, a little changed by the whole ordeal, but it does not put Arthur off from wanting investigate more.

"We need to go to that house," he says and walks off back to the car.

"What house- Are you talking about Katherine's old house?" Matthew asks and trails after him. "The one that the demon thing used to live in before he ended up with Alfred? That house?"

"Yes," Arthur answer just as he pulls his door open. "That house."

There's a total look of disbelief etched on Matthew's face that it is almost impossible to ignore. Even as they both enter the car and take off once more, it remains.

"Why are we going to the house?" he finally asks, and there really is no reason for Arthur to not tell him the truth.

"Clarification purposes."

Matthew does not reply, and it makes Arthur take a glance at him and sees that he is not at all convinced.

"Natalya wrote in her journals about _Ivan_ making her feel less lonesome, more loved, if you will. But she didn't go into any specifics as far as Katherine read. If we were to find out that the sole cause of this attachment is based on her missing mother, well then, we'd have our reasons behind why out of the three people in that room it attached itself to Alfred."

"What would that have to do with Alfred, though? We had both our parents."

"Yes, but.. there was something that didn't settle right with him, and he's never been able to forgive it since."

The car goes quiet, and it's not comfortable in the slightest.

"What happened, Arthur?" asks Matthew. "What happened that night you and Alfred fought?"

This is definitely not the ideal setting he had wanted for this conversation should it ever occur. However, there is nothing to gain from not telling Matthew the truth, especially now when it can very well do more damage than heal.

"Do you remember," he begins, "when you first came into my home and after the first questions of what I did in the basement happened, I asked you both if you wanted to know?"

Matthew shakes his head. "No. No, not really."

"Well, you answered me no, most likely because you were afraid and more cautious out of the two of you. But Alfred did, and he studied under me for about four years I think. I did give him instructions to not talk about what happened down there after the incident with my own board. He probably still believes that I don't know you were down there with him when it broke.

"He was doing fine, but then… Matthew, what do you remember from your parents?"

This time he does not take Matthew's silence for an answer on its own. He waits patiently for him to find the words and even then he can't really say anything more than, "Not much. I know dad worked a lot. Mom worked too but… I think it was only part-time somewhere because she was always with me and Alfred. Sometimes they would fight, and the day after we would go somewhere for like a family day out. That's all I pretty much remember."

Arthur sighs. "The night we fought has a bit of a bit of a prelude to it. It started when he had been… fifteen maybe. There were exercises to stimulate memory, I had him go through it in order to begin our next lesson. What he remembered, were the subjects of those fights they would have, and being older, he understood what that meant. From what I understood, you both assumed that I was a child from a relationship that ended before your mother came into the picture, but that's not true.

"Your parents were already involved with one another before I was born. They were even married, a year or so before, I believe. But they couldn't have children, and it put a strain on them both for a while, and that was when our father met my mother and their turbulent love affair took off. He kept my existence a secret from her for six years, and when she did find out… it was not the easiest time of my life.

"To keep this story from growing any longer, despite having the both of you and proclaiming over and over again that he was not to leave his wife, their affair continued until the day of the accident. Which I believe was during one of those _family day_ outings you remember. Which means that it was because of an argument from the night before, and since my mother is no longer alive for him to pin the blame on, that lovely privilege fell unto me."

Matthew says nothing, and so Arthur continues.

"Of course, none of that was my fault but after that he quit and a distance between us grew. I never realized how much animosity he had been holding up until the night he left. That night had been more or less a recap of everything he had been holding a grudge against, and he still doesn't know where to place that anger."

Again, Matthew says nothing and remains quiet for the longest time. As they continue to drive, Arthur gives him fleeting looks, watching for a reaction and growing increasingly nervous when he still says nothing.

"It wasn't your fault," Matthew eventually comes to say softly. "I.. didn't know that's what had happened, or was even happening at the time. But the fighting, and the accident, and the cheating, that wasn't your fault. Nah, two out of three, or hell maybe even all three, is all on dad. It's not your fault, Arthur."

A breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding is released, and Arthur can feel a great deal of relief flow right through him.

"You always were to more rational one as well," he says softly and Matthew gives him a small smile.

"I guess… I guess that has it make sense then. Like, if Alfred had been feeling this and wasn't sharing it, 'cause I sure as hell didn't hear about any of this from him, I guess that would make him the target if that's what this thing looks for. Talk about one helluva coincidence."

"Oh, please," Arthur scoffs. "It's a mere coincidence that the apartment Alfred finds available to him is above the thrift store the both of you would be working at ran by Eliza, who employed Feliks only a few months later, who just so happens to be a friend of Toris, whose mother not to mention was a former honorary coven member of my own mother's set, and knew the Arlovsky family personally? This was not a coincidence, this is the set-up of an eventuality, and there is a reason behind it."

He chances another glance at Matthew and is pleased to note that he is listening intently to what he says. "That's why we're going to the house, because if it's one string of commonality the major players in this production share, it is the lack of proper parental figures, and we need to be certain that is all there is to it."

He takes Matthew's leaning back into his seat as a sign of his acceptance of this and leaves it at that.

The home they pull up to has been left empty for some time. Windows have been boarded where panes have been broken, railings have fallen into a state of disrepair while tiles from the roof have gone missing. Graffiti takes up one side of the home, and it leaves Arthur wondering why such a thing was allowed to happen.

He parks his car on the streets, and both him and Matthew exit to approach the house. The hinges of the gate creak loudly when they swing open. Dry grass crunches under the footsteps and the stairs groan under their weight as they find themselves on the small porch before the front door.

Without even doing much, just by standing in front of the entrance covered in chipped paint, he can feel that there is something still here, behind the door. It grips at his insides and settles heavily in the bottom of his stomach, a sixth sense of what they may see, but only that. He doesn't feel anything too malignant, and there's nothing to suggest that there is anything here that will cause them real harm.

"Residual energy," he says to himself more than to his brother. "It may only be that."

"What does that mean?" Matthew asks.

"Just that there may still be something here," Arthur tells him and grabs at the handle of the front door. "Like a nightmare you can't forget, or a memory that always stays at the back of your mind, sometimes certain events leave an impression on a place and it stays there."

He closes his eyes and pours his entire focus into the metal in his grasp. It takes a little longer than he expects, but he does come to see them. Small flashes of images fly before him; Katherine locking up the house for the last time, a coroner crossing the threshold, a young woman with long pale hair leaving and a looming shadow following close after her.

Arthur lets go of the handle as if it's suddenly become too hot to touch.

"We need to get inside," he says and immediately goes for one of the boarded windows.

Matthew follows him and helps. It takes a bit of force to get the plank of wood off with just their manpower but eventually they're able to pull off one and the rest follow suit easily enough. The window pane still has some jagged bits of glass attached that Arthur smashes inward. He pulls off his jacket and lays it down.

"Do you want to go first or last?" he asks Matthew.

"Neither, to be honest."

Arthur does pull a slight face but he doesn't reply. He throws one leg over and then the next, his feet hit the floor inside and he ducks inside.

The inside is still furnished, only with dusty sheets that are staining yellow covering everything. The floorboards are layered finely with grime and dust floats freely in the stagnant air around them. He takes a few steps forward, allows his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and hears Matthew struggle to get inside himself.

As far as homes go, this one is fairly small. They're in a well-sized living, from here he can see the entrance to the kitchen from across a small hall attached to the entryway that has either a small bathroom or closet and a staircase leading upwards. There's no use in exploring the rest of the house, when it's definitely upstairs that they need to be. He tells Matthew to follow him and leads them up the stairs.

It's just as much in a state of dilapidation as the rest of the house. There is a series of spray painted murals lining up and down the hallway from where vandals have marked when having broken inside. Many pieces of railing have been kicked in and the door leading into the bathroom has been busted through and cut in half. A growing feeling of annoyance hits Arthur then, but he pushes it aside. No matter how terrible he may feel for everything that has been done to this place, he can't let it get to what he's really here for.

Natalya's room is not difficult to find. There are a total of three bedroom in the house, and it just happens that the first bedroom they peek into is painted from floor to ceiling (and even then, the ceiling is too) painted black. Faded posters of different symbols from different branches of magic are plastered to the walls, some even half torn off, and some simple fallen over from where tape has failed to keep. A small four poster bed covered in marker writing is stripped of bedding and mattress in the corner and like much of the rest of the house, the leftover furniture of a desk and set of drawers are covered in sheets.

Already Arthur is able to feel a difference in this room than the rest of the house. The air is heavier here, and he's not sure if Matthew is able to tell, but he finds it a little harder to breathe naturally. He feels as if he's being made to keep a calm façade when there should be no danger lurking here.

"We'll need to perform a small ritual," he says.

"What kind of ritual?"

"Something that will bring out the memories this room has." Arthur moves to the center of the room, and with his finger begins to draw symbols in the dust on the floor. "Whatever is clinging here is still strong. Did Katherine make a mention as to where her sister died?"

"Um… no. No, I don't think she said where."

"She may have died here."

"Are you serious?"

"Most likely. Come here." He holds his hand out for Matthew to take but keeps him from getting closer to him than an arm's length. "Mind the circle, and close your eyes."

"Nothing's gonna come out of this and go crazy is it?" he asks, but follows directions all the same.

"No, it's simply going to allow us to see a quick glimpse of things that have happened here. The images may startle you at first, but keep calm, and you'll be fine."

Matthew gives him a small nod of understanding, and with that Arthur begins a small incantation.

With his own eyes closed, it's a melting sensation that surrounds them. Though the temperature in the room remains the same, he can almost sense the area around them melting away and growing livelier as it restores into a more comfortable condition. The air is fresher, there is no dust, the furniture is being used and the posters are like in place, still intact. The first image that shows up is that of a small girl curled up on her bed. Her face is hidden by the long tendrils of hair that act as a curtain while her tiny body racks with quiet sobs.

She begins to call out for her mother, even as her body elongates and her voice matures, right before them as if years were passing by before them in mere seconds, she does not move and continues to call out for her mother. At one point everything suddenly pauses and comes to stand still, and even she herself grows quiet. Little by little, her body uncurls, and she brings a hand up to push away her hair and tuck it behind her ears.

She looks to them, or rather she appears to be looking at something behind them. It's at this point that Arthur feels as if something is definitely wrong. These are not the types of images he knows should be coming to them. Instead, it's almost as if they've both been dragged into a small pocket of time where something is about to happen. A fixed point, because while she continues to stare, the more he feels something solidifying behind them, and that is something that most certainly should not be happening.

"You'll stay with me?" she asks whatever it is that's behind them. "Please say you'll stay with me. I'll even give you the scarf you like so much. I know you do, you always come around the most when I wear it, so please?"

A low huff of air, something breathes out heavily from behind and it's for the best that they end this now and leave.

"My mother left me," the girl goes on to say. "My father doesn't care for me. Katyusha's growing and will do the same. I don't want to be alone. I don't…"

The floorboards begin to vibrate, and Arthur grips at Matthew's hand.

"Matthew," he calls. "Pay attention to what I'm going to say. When I tell you to run, open your eyes and run back the way we came."

"Why?" he asks. He sounds a bit scared, and Arthur doesn't blame him.

"A part of it.. may still be lingering here."

"Are you shitting me? Please tell me you're shitting me."

He doesn't answer that.

The vibrations turn into a slight tremble. The girl in front of them stretches her legs out, continues to grow until she's a lanky teenager with sunken cheeks dressed entirely in black. Her hair has lost its luster and hangs in stringy clumps around her face as a large dark mass suddenly emerges from the shadows behind her.

"It's fine," she says. "As long as he never leaves."

Arthur tugs at Matthew's hand.

"Run!"

Arthur's eyes flash opened and he's glad to see that Matthew has done the same, has even left the room just as he's told him to. He ends up staggering behind as the room comes back to how it really is left, still in shambles only on the path of being destroyed even further.

The trembling of the floorboard had not only occurred in their makeshift séance, it had also been something occurring right beneath them. It bleeds into the walls, into the ceiling, has it crack and plaster falls in large clumps at Arthur's feet as he sprints from the room. He exits right before the single window, covered in a large amount of grime shatters inwardly and scatters all across the floor. The activity soon escapes into the rest of the house, making it harder for him to race down the stairs as they threaten to give way in his rush.

How he's able to make it back through the window they've entered from must be from pure adrenaline. Him remembering to grab his jacket on the way back to the car must be pure luck. Either way, he's glad to see Matthew already sitting inside, a little shaken but safe.

He enters, ignores the way Matthew jumps as he plops down in the driver's seat and slams the door behind him. His heart is beating fast and he takes long deep breaths to try to settle it down.

"We shouldn't have done that," Matthew says, his face in his hands. "Oh my god, we shouldn't have done that, we probably pissed it off even more."

"Let it be," says Arthur and reaches for his pack of cigarettes. He places on between his lips and rolls his window down just before lighting it up. With the first drag he already feels less frazzled. "It's not like it won't make much of a difference when we exorcise the bastard."

"But Alfred-"

"Will be fine so long as he keeps the charm I make him close. Right now… I'm sure of what needs to be done."

"So, what do we do now?"

With one last drag on his cigarette, Arthur crushes the leftover into the makeshift ashtray he's made out of his cup holder. He exhales in one large breath because that's the question, isn't it? He has some semblance of an idea as to lure the monster into his own home where this needs to be done, something that only has a possibility of working and maybe, just _maybe_, with some added thought and safety measures taken into consideration, it could very well work to be the best one of them all. He has no doubt that he'll have Matthew's full service at his disposal to see it through no matter how unreliable it seems.

He looks to his young brother, the very one who shares only half of his blood, who he would not even know if unfortunate circumstance had not thrown them together, and knows that none of that makes what he's about to suggest any better.

Mother forgive him...

"Matthew," he says. "Your hair's growing awfully long. Don't you think?"

**xxx**

-This took way longer than I wanted and there was so much bs going on that kept me from ever finishing it including a pc reset gone bad, two rewrites, and three jobs that both ended badly. Ugh.

-Anyway, two more chapters to go this fic is winding down~

-Stay shiny, lovelies, I'll be back with the next part on the 13th. xoxo

**xxx**

Nonnie Love:

IT'S BEEN SO LONG AND I LOVE YOU ALL I'M SORRY THAT I'M NOT SAYING THANK YOU TO EACH ONE OF YOU BUT I'VE READ YOUR REVIEWS AND THEY ALL KEPT ME MOTIVATED. THANK YOU.


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